


Nemesis

by MorallyGrey



Category: The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child Whump, Gen, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Referenced Child Murder, So much happens in this story man idek, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 60
Words: 180,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23544295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorallyGrey/pseuds/MorallyGrey
Summary: "I try to live in the now… Where the ghosts of old wrongs do not abide." Nemo turned his back on the past for a long time, perhaps for too long. Now, snatched from his own ship, he has little choice but to work for a man whom he long thought, and wished to be dead. His only hope is the League, but that means uncovering dark secrets. Secrets that, some would say, should have remained unearthed… (A Sequel to the LXG 2003 Movie).
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. Lighting the Fuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I see you've come to have a look at this story. Thank you for that! I've been working on this for a long time, over five years, but it's finally ready to post. So any support and feedback would be greatly appreciated in return. I really hope you all like this :) Also no, sadly I was not calling it Finding Nemo.

**Chapter 1 - Lighting the Fuse**  
**Kenya, Africa: August 9th**

The sudden blast of heat shocked Quatermain's system as he sat up in the dry soil, especially considering that his last moments of memory consisted of the deadly cold of Mongolia. Being resurrected from his own grave wasn't something he could have ever imagined happening on an unusually stormy afternoon in Africa, though the clouds were beginning to clear at a rapid pace.

His hand shot across the back of his shoulder, feeling for a wound, but there was nothing. It only served to add to his confusion. He fumbled to his feet, holding onto the earthy walls for support.  
"Well done, Zikali."  
"Thank you, my Queen."

Quatermain strained to look past the sun and to a woman and a man stood in front of his grave, watching as he dragged himself up. It seemed these two unusual people had dug him out as only a thin layer of dust remained over the top of him and the lid to his coffin was removed. Yet there was no shovel in sight. He shook his head to dispel some of his fuzzy confusion; none of this made any sense to him.

Then it began to click into place. He found himself recognising the man and woman. If Quatermain was correct, the storm that was easing overhead had caused his revival, especially as there was a very large mound of charred soil piled around the grave. He recognised the man as Zikali, the powerful and yet feared witch doctor. He was the one who had told Quatermain Africa would not allow him to die. He was right, for there Quatermain was- alive as ever.

The woman's name was Ayesha, or quite literally ‘She’ as her Native African people tended to call her. This mysterious white queen had many gifts and powers. Her white dress glowed in the heat. There was an exotic beauty to her face and her hair, the strands brown, wavy, and long. She looked like a normal woman at first glance. But scratch the surface she was far more dangerous and powerful than perhaps any living being. Her beauty could entrance entire armies into being frozen on the spot. Quatermain had seen the entire event roll out in front of his very eyes many years ago.

Yet Allan did not become trapped in her web. He had once gone to her several years earlier, hoping he would be able to communicate with his recently lost son. She may have mesmerized others with her appearance, but he always managed to keep his wits. Although he tended to assume that it was his stubbornness that saved him.

Still, she was a force to be reckoned with and a great ally. He gave a bow but had no time to speak.  
"Macumazahn… Still doubtful over our powers?" she smiled warmly. He wiped the mud from his tongue but only succeeded in making the taste worse.  
"Well, I suppose not," he replied, amused by her greeting. Quatermain tried to climb out of his grave, but his boots could find no grip.

"Zikali, could you give me a hand up?" Zikali and Ayesha crouched down near the hole, reaching down. Quatermain was surprised to see Ayesha helping him. With a quick tug, he managed to get high enough to scramble out.

Now on his feet, he dusted himself off. "Thank you, although I expect there is a reason as to why I am here?" he mused.  
Ayesha looked down. That was all the confirmation he needed to know. "The League needs your help," she admitted. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head in curiosity. Why would Ayesha and Zikali be concerned with such matters?

"How exactly? What has happened?" he asked.  
"It is not what has happened, it is what will happen. Take my hand and I will show you what is to transpire very soon," she instructed.  
Quatermain hesitated and frowned in confusion. She kept her hand outstretched expectantly.  
"Trust me," she smiled. Quatermain saw Zikali give him a discreet nod of reassurance. The hunter hesitated for a moment more but finally did as he was asked. He took her hand in his.

His vision immediately went black. An image began to crawl out of the darkness and grow in clarity. It was exactly what she said she would do. Ayesha was showing him what happened, letting images, sounds, and emotions melt together; as if revealing it all through a dream…

* * *

**_The Nautilus_ , North Atlantic Ocean: August 28th**

  
A stranger sauntered along the empty corridors of the Nautilus. Quatermain found it odd that the lights were not switched on in the ship. The man was dressed up like a real gentleman, monocle and all. His top hat shadowed his face, although some details were visible. He crept along the long corridor, springing like a gazelle and crossing into a room in complete silence. His behaviour was confident and casual as if the entire trip through the Nautilus was an amusing game. Who was he?

Quatermain’s stomach lurched as a realisation hit him. The room he had entered was Dr Jekyll's. He prayed that the man wasn't after what he thought...

Inside Jekyll's room, the man looked around. As he moved his head, his monocle managed to reflect a stray speck of light. The weak flickering light showed the bottom left side of his grinning face. His skin was soft and shaven, with barely a wrinkle in sight to suggest excessive time working outdoors or great age. This man was only around thirty.

The man knew what he was looking for. He searched with a noticeable degree of skill. Whatever he moved was put back in its exact place. There was not even a sign that he had been there. He went over to Jekyll’s empty bed and looked underneath. There it was, the box that contained bottles of chaos: Jekyll’s potion.  
“Pas de serrure,” he muttered, opening it.

There sat row upon row of vials, all in their individual places. The man took four out, pocketing them, and put the box back under the bed. He reappeared from the room a few moments later. The glass clinked in his pocket; it was like they were crying out for help. He took them out and held them in his hand to silence them.

Quatermain's worst fears had been confirmed, filling him with dread. He knew too well the potential danger those vials contained.

The stranger pricked up his ears and looked down the corridor. He'd been spotted and took off at a run. Dr Henry Jekyll could see what he carried and didn't hesitate in chasing after him, yelling at him to stop.

The monocled man turned a corner and met two other men in a small shadowed corridor. The second man wore similar clothes to the first but looked far, far paler than the others. An albino perhaps? The third looked like a distorted shadow with him not being in the light. Quatermain was sure he was wearing a mask of sorts.

"Rapidement!" the monocled man ordered, handing over his prizes.  
“À votre santè,” the second man remarked.  
Without hesitation, the two men drank two bottles each, one dose of formula after another. After a second, they both roared in pain. The transformation had begun.  
“À la vôtre,” the monocled man murmured, almost with a wince, stepping back.

Muscles grew and skin stretched across their bodies, unevenly and gruesomely. Their clothes shredded as their mass continued to expand at an accelerated rate. There were painful sounds of bones twisting and shifting as they grew. After plenty of jolts and jumps and an infinite amount of screaming and yelling... the gruesome transformation was complete.

One of their transformations into a monster looked quite normal for a Hyde, albeit one who took an excessive amount of formula. Its skin was blood red and stuffed full of bulging muscles. Twisted and distorted by the alterations, the man's face was beyond recognition- as was the rest of his enormous body. He was almost twice the size of Edward Hyde's usual appearance so most of his clothes were in unrecognisable rags. The second man, the one with paler skin, looked unusual. His body was exactly the same size as the other creature and equally disfigured, but his skin was very pale, almost blue.

"You both look terribly handsome," the monocled and unaltered man muttered with a smirk. At first, Quatermain didn't understand why they now spoke English, not until he saw their lips didn't follow their words. Was Ayesha managing to translate it for him as well?  
"I would watch your tongue when I am in such a powerful body, Lupin. It may prove vital for your health," growled the red Hyde.  
"Quiet, both of you. Someone is coming," the paler Hyde hushed in a deep, gruff voice.

Dr Jekyll appeared after the transformation was complete, struggling for breath after the pursuit. He peered around the corner. The man and two creatures turned to look at him. One of the monsters gritted his teeth in annoyance and threw a fist at the doctor.

With almost no time to react, Jekyll gasped and threw himself back as a red fist plummeted towards him. The punch missed and slammed into the wall beside him. Before the creature could take a second swing, Jekyll was up and running down the hall in the opposite direction.

He hurried back to his room. He grabbed his box of vials and threw it open on the bed. Snatching up a vial of formula. Jekyll tried to catch his breath from running so hard for so long. In his own body, he wasn't the strongest nor did he possess the greatest endurance. His mind and knowledge had always been his strengths but what use did they have in such a situation?

He could hear booms and bangs as the three men followed in pursuit. Jekyll gulped. He was outnumbered. Even if he let Hyde out these two monsters couldn't be defeated alone but he didn't have much of a choice- he needed to hurry!

Jekyll pulled out the cork and was about to gulp the formula down, but a large hand grabbed him out of the room, launching him into a wall. The doctor hit the surface with a teeth-shattering force before dropping to the ground. He did not move after that.


	2. Out of the Frying Pan...

**Chapter 2 - Out of the Frying Pan…  
** **(Continued)**

Quatermain couldn't believe the scene that was unfolding before him. It pained him to not be able to help or even see if the doctor was hurt after such an encounter. Before he could even react, his vision grew dark once more. When it began to reappear, it showed him a different part of the Nautilus: the bridge.

Captain Nemo was there, as well as Mina Harker and two other crewmen. They spoke quietly amongst themselves.  
"I hope that's normal, Nemo?" Skinner called as he made his way up the stairs and to the bridge. He had his hands buried deep into his coat pockets. He only wore his coat and he hadn’t bothered with face paint. "Brr, it’s freezing up here. The crew aren’t still doing maintenance this time of night, are they? The door's open up top.”  
"I cannot imagine maintenance work making such a noise," Mina pointed out.

Nemo gave an order to one of the crewmen to go and shut the door. He turned to Skinner "The noise disturbance has been nothing of mine, Mr Skinner. The men have stopped with their work until they have dined. Ishmael left to find the cause of the problem but he has been gone for some time." Nemo looked over all the controls and instruments as if to be sure. He seemed satisfied with what he had found. 

It was obvious to them that this wasn't normal. Those gathered knew the Nautilus well by that point. Quatermain wished he could tell of the danger that loomed over them, the state Jekyll was in. But at least the near-continuous almighty thuds acted as some sort of warning for them. 

"Oh... Then chances are that means we've got ourselves a late-night visitor. And I doubt it's someone asking for directions," Skinner replied casually.  
“Let’s try not to jump to conclusions,” Mina reasoned.  
Captain Nemo glanced up to the door with a concerned expression. He murmured, “It is unlikely for there to be intruders. But Ishmael is taking longer than I expected...” He walked towards the door, determined to find the cause of the disruption himself when Dr Jekyll staggered in. Nemo almost bumped into him. The instant he saw the doctor, his mood darkened.

Jekyll was clutching onto his chest with laboured breaths. It was clear he had taken a nasty hit. There was already a lump swelling on his head from the impact and the way he was holding himself suggested some bruising, maybe even a broken rib. Other than that, a thin line of blood trickling down his cheek was his most visible injury. His clothes were intact, meaning the commotion had not included Edward Hyde while Quatermain had switched scenes in his vision.

"Two- Four of my…" he managed to mumble as he crumpled into Nemo's arms.  
"Dr Jekyll?" Mina exclaimed. Nemo managed to get Jekyll to sit on the floor with his back against the wall. Mina hurried over to him, sweeping her skirt out of the way as she began to tend to his injuries. She removed her gloves and checked his pulse. After everything Quatermain witnessed, it would be racing like a frightened rabbit. But he was alive and after such an encounter, Jekyll ought to consider himself lucky.

"What happened, doctor?" Nemo asked, taking control of the situation and his ship.  
"The vials," he croaked. His head tipped forward a bit as his eyes fluttered shut. He looked like he was going to fall unconscious again.  
Nemo put a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him awake and upright. "Steady, Doctor. Your vials of formula? Has someone taken them? Is that the disturbance we can hear?" Jekyll nodded and held four fingers up, unable to catch his breath to speak or focus.

“Four? Four what?” Skinner asked.  
“Vials,” he managed.  
"Are there four monsters?" Nemo pressed.  
"No,” he answered, “Two... Two each. I. I saw another man too… We’re under attack."

"One Hyde would be bad enough- Two doubles could destroy the whole ship!" Skinner exclaimed.

Nemo nodded, standing up and allowing Mina more room to care for the doctor. "Indeed it would. Dr Jekyll, I believe we may need the aid of Hyde, if you feel well enough." Jekyll nodded. There was a hardened look in Nemo's eyes, one that was similar to how he appeared when Dorian Gray revealed his treachery. His ship had been threatened once more and that left the League with an infuriated captain. Nothing would stop him ensuring the safety of the Nautilus.

"Mrs Harker, perhaps you should remain here to keep a watchful eye on the doctor for now? Dr Jekyll should not be left alone."  
To everyone's surprise, her stubbornness about being cast aside or being considered weak did not show. She understood that Nemo's suggestion was out of pure practicality. Quatermain couldn't disagree with the reasoning. Mina had proven herself over the course of their first meeting. She was a woman, yes, but she was worth more than a thousand men.

“Go; be careful," she said. "We will follow if we can."

Her hand had settled on Jekyll's shoulder without her realising. There was a predatory gleam in her eyes that almost dared someone to try harming him further.  
"We must locate those creatures," Nemo announced as he hurried out of the room and down the corridor. Whatever the captain had in mind in order to fight the monsters, he wouldn't be facing it alone. Skinner took off his coat and followed after him. 

"I need to help them," Jekyll groaned, trying to get back on his feet.  
Mina's firm grip pinned him in place and forced him back down. "Get your breath back. Then you can help if, and only if, you're well enough. Though I expect they will need Hyde..."  
Jekyll let his head fall against the wall and closed his eyes, concentrating on steadying his breathing. Quatermain hoped he would recover somewhat swiftly.

Once again, the scene Quatermain was watching shifted to another part of the Nautilus…

* * *

**(*Meanwhile*)** **  
**

Nemo ran through each corridor and flew down every flight of stairs. He knew exactly where Dr Jekyll's room was. If the monsters had taken the vials, they would be nearby. And if not, he could be able to follow their trail of destruction. He took a shortcut by moving through the engine room, knowing time was of the essence.

Skinner was still following, although Nemo could make out his heavy breathing above the noise of the engines at either side of them. "Skinner, come on!" Nemo ordered.  
"Alright, alright, I'm going as fast as I can," Skinner grumbled.

A lot of Nemo's crew would be down on this floor and in great danger. If Hyde wasn't here to stop these monsters, who could? The creatures could do a lot of damage in the time it would take for the captain to find them. Then there was the extra time they had gained whilst Jekyll was heading up to the bridge. The fuse was running down. It made Quatermain all the more curious about what these three intruders were doing.

The pair ran along a narrow metal bridge above the gigantic engines, generators and pumps of the Nautilus. The clanking of feet on the metal grating echoed through the engine room along with the ferocious humming of machines. The room was deserted and the silence in such a vital room, usually bustling with activity, was not natural. The absence of the normal commotion made one thing clear. These Hyde creatures had been nearby. They needed to be ready. But Quatermain was also concerned over other matters. Why hadn’t an alarm been sounded for example? Surely there was one.

A clatter of metal rang out, succeeded by a shout of pain. Nemo had fallen through a section of the bridges above the engines and his leg was dangling in mid-air. Nemo held himself up to save his leg from receiving further damage from the sharp metal pieces. It would be a painful position to maintain. He was wincing and breathing hard through gritted teeth. 

The sound of slapping feet increased as Skinner rushed to catch up and help Nemo up from under his arms. They both struggled to find a secure footing. Once Nemo's leg was free, he held onto the railing to keep himself steady.

"Careful, Nemo," Skinner said.  
"Thank you. Although I fear I may have badly injured my ankle." Nemo glanced down at the broken section of the bridge. He looked furious at himself for being injured. "My ship is never left in such a state... This could not happen accidentally; metal does not split in such a way unless it is provoked," he explained, keeping his right leg above the ground. He tried a few times to put it down flat, but it hurt him too much. Quatermain imagined that his leg would be in quite a state now: bleeding and beginning to swell. It would slow him down and that could be dangerous.

"Just be careful. I'll have to get you to Mina."  
"No, we must-"

Another deafening bang came from behind the two. They both jumped at the sudden noise.  
"Hyde?" Skinner called, almost hopefully.  
"Quiet, you fool," Nemo hissed.

The thudding began to get louder and louder, faster and faster. Something big was running towards them... Far bigger than Mr Hyde.

"Move," Nemo whispered. Skinner seemed hypnotised by the hair- raising clattering. Nemo knew that Skinner hadn't budged. "Damn it, man, run!" he bellowed, shoving Skinner forwards. The captain's orders finally entered the invisible man's mind. Skinner took Nemo's arm and wrapped it around his shoulder. Then the pair took off, Skinner almost dragging his companion along.

Nemo continued to jog forwards with an aggressive limp. He looked to be pushing himself to go faster, although his ankle was protesting with every step. Still, survival was more important at the moment. That was one of many things Quatermain liked about Nemo: his determination and resilience.  
"Skinner, let go. I will be able to run on my own."  
"But-"  
"Go!"

Skinner grumbled in reluctance but slipped from beneath him and went behind him. Nemo would appreciate the gesture of Skinner wishing to protect him at his expense, but he would not allow it. Nemo said, "run on ahead, warn the crew. Hurry now!" Quatermain watched as Nemo made way for Skinner scooting past on the narrow bridge. There seemed to be a moment of hesitation on the invisible man's part, but the sounds of pursuit prompted him to do as Nemo commanded.

Nemo's speed increased despite the pain ricocheting up his leg with every step. His decision to run on it wouldn't win Jekyll's approval, not that it could be helped.

Without warning, a crimson-red fist, at least ten times the size of his own, clasped onto Nemo's good leg from beneath the bridge. He tripped and fell. Even over Nemo’s shout of surprise, it was possible to hear Skinner’s footsteps stop abruptly.  
"Nemo?!" Skinner exclaimed.  
"I said run!" he barked, drawing his sword and plunging it into the beast's hand. It instantly let go, but Nemo was unable to retrieve his sword. The creature had already yanked its hand away in pain.

Nemo shuffled away from the bellowing monster before finding the strength to scramble to his feet and run as best as he could. The door flew open a few feet away. Skinner was at the doorway, waiting, calling for Nemo to hurry. The moment Nemo slipped through, he spun around and shut it.

Using decades' worth of experience aboard the Nautilus, Nemo locked the door at a startling speed. When he saw an open toolbox by his feet, he added to the security, wedging a wrench between a pipe and the handle. The two men began to flee again. It would not take long for this new Hyde to break open the door. The doors were watertight, not Hydetight.

This time, they didn't go very far. Skinner helped Nemo to get to a storage cupboard. Nemo and Skinner were forced to pause to catch their breaths.  
"As I guessed, it's no-one needing directions," Skinner remarked.  
"Where… are my… crew? There should at least be some of them here," Nemo panted, ignoring Skinner’s comment. He looked around the cupboard. The room mainly contained brushes and mops, but Quatermain spotted some excess medical supplies. Nemo rummaged around until he found what he was looking for: a few rolls of bandage.

Skinner, not having a definite answer at the moment, suggested, "They probably ran. I can't blame them either. That thing is massive."  
"We have to stop it. It's locked in the most important room of this ship. He'll destroy the engines," Nemo exclaimed. He began to wrap the bandage around his ankle to support it, aware of how little time he had to work.

The ringing of muscle and bone on metal echoed through the hallways. It was trying to break through the door. It was only a matter of time. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it's more interested in you," Skinner remarked.  
"So it seems, but any animal knows to attack the weaker prey. Besides, it may not be able to see where you are," Nemo replied. "Come, we should hurry. We need to lead it away from the engine room whilst it remains fixed upon us."  
"You can't move with your ankle in that state, you'll have to let me help you," Skinner argued.

Nemo tested his ankle, putting weight on it. It was clearly sore but he seemed satisfied that he could move with it. "If I was to accept your help, I would be risking your life."  
“We’re all a team!" Skinner retorted. "I’m not asking for protection, but you need it. You're hurt, you stubborn old fool.”  
Nemo shook his head. “I will manage.” His voice left no room for argument.  
"I still don't like it," Skinner grumbled, despite knowing that Nemo could not and would not hide away whilst his ship - his home, was under attack.

The two hurried down the corridors once again. Skinner must have been concerned about Nemo's ankle, especially since he had applied so much pressure to it with the running. He asked about it, but Nemo said what was expected. "I am fine. Do not concern yourself with such matters now. My leg has been treated and it is tolerable. I admit I should not have been so impercipient and so careless to the point of being injured, but we must continue."

After turning the corner, Nemo’s eyes widened. One of his crew members, Ishmael, was lying face down on the floor, unconscious. Skinner had almost fallen over the top of him judging by the noise he made. Nemo winced as he crouched down by Ishmael’s side, turned him over and began shaking him in an attempt to wake him up. Quatermain could see Ishmael's chest rising and falling, so he was at least alive.

"Ishmael, Ishmael! Come, you must get up," Nemo exclaimed, patting his cheek. Ishmael wasn't moving, but he seemed to be able to hear him. His eyelids twitched and he gave a soft moan in response to Nemo's attempts to rouse him.

A crash of metal alerted the captain that he needed to get Ishmael out of harm's way. It was coming. Ishmael wasn't going to wake up in time.  
"Take Ishmael into that room on the left. I will keep that-"  
"Nemo, no. You’re not listening! You can't just go off on your own. It will kill you!"  
"I am aware of the risk, Skinner. But a captain must ensure the safety of his vessel and crew above all else. Do not question my command, it will doom us all. Now please, go!"

There was a brief moment of hesitation, but then Skinner sighed in frustration. "I expect to see you at the end of this, preferably in one piece, understand?" Nemo nodded to Skinner and doubled back towards the creature as the invisible man got a firm grip on Ishmael.

When Nemo drew near where he’d left the monster, he froze in his tracks. All sounds became inaudible as he hastily absorbed his surroundings. The door to the engine room was wide open, the crash had simply been the door hitting off the wall. It wasn't broken: someone had unlocked it for the beast. His hand went to the knife on the side of his belt, his kirpan which Sikhs were required to carry as part of their faith. Nemo’s was about six inches, but the blade was thin and would do little against a creature this powerful. Still, it was all he had.

Taking a deep breath, Nemo listened. The sound of breathing, like that of a bull, echoed around the corridors. A gentle sigh of hot breath slithered into Nemo's collar. He shuddered. It was above him, clinging onto the piping high above him like an ape. It was waiting.

Nemo resisted the urge to look up. That would prompt the beast to jump on him. Instead, he hobbled away, like he thought it was elsewhere. Nemo took his chance, bursting into a sprint, using any handrail he could find to throw himself further forward. He needed to find some form of weapon, but there would be none in his path. The closest weapons would be in the library. He had to make it there.

Provoked by movement, the monster jumped after him. The creature was far stronger and faster than the injured man. It would be an easy catch. All Nemo could depend on was his knowledge of the layout of his vessel and hope the beast was unable to keep up in the narrow hallways.

Nemo hurled himself up the stairs three at a time. His body was not obeying him fast enough. His legs crumpled several times beneath him, but he hurled himself back up, forcing air into his lungs. The speed at which he ran was phenomenal, spitting air through gritted teeth. He desperately made his way to his library, knowing that it was his only chance. There would be weapons for him to use there. Just a little further.

_'Come on, Nemo, come on!'_ Quatermain urged through his dream. He wasn't going to make it. The foul creature was at his heels. The only thing protecting Nemo was the size of the corridors. The monster was squeezing through all the metal walls, struggling to turn the corners in time. It left great dents in places. It ran like a gorilla, using its arms like forelegs. That was the only way it could pass through the smaller hallways. If Nemo slowed down by a fraction, he would be finished.

Quatermain could see Nemo was wearing down. Adrenaline was the only thing that was forcing him onward. Adrenaline would be the only thing that could save him.

Quatermain hoped adrenaline alone was enough.


	3. ...And Into the Fire

**Chapter 3 - … And Into the Fire  
** **(Continued)**

As Nemo stumbled into the library, he yanked a lever down on the wall. Alarms finally blared through the entire ship in response. The whole crew would know of a threat at least. This was a fight the Nautilus had to win.

Nemo hobbled to one of the walls, using the wall as a support for a moment and he clenched his jaw and winced deeply. With a powerful breath amongst his hastened pants, he stood up and looked at the small collection of bladed weapons. Although placed more for decoration, they would still work as well as any other. His hand hovered over the knives and swords, his preferred choice, but they would do little good against such a beast. Instead, he took up a harpoon. This would not end well without some form of weapon and help from either the crew or the League. All he could hope for was that Jekyll's potion would burn off soon and the creatures would revert.

Nemo used the harpoon as a cane to help him as he moved behind a bookcase. He waited, trying to make as little noise as he could and keeping a hand on his ankle. He must have hurt it badly but even alone he refused to allow the pain to show. The blaring of the alarm made it easier to conceal himself. Why was it taking so long for the creature to arrive? It was right behind him a moment ago. It sounded like it had stopped now that Nemo was cornered in the library. He was trapped. Nemo had no choice now but to fight.

Glancing around, Nemo found all of the most expensive pieces of artwork he owned to be missing. They were gone from their places, leaving blank rectangles from where cigar smoke had slightly stained the walls. Quatermain assumed that these intruders had also helped themselves to his collection. Nemo bared his teeth and glared at the gaps.

Heavy footsteps pounding on the metal floor alerted Nemo of its presence. The steps were slower than before as if it was trying to be careful. Something didn't seem right. Crash! The alarm went silent, leaving Nemo in a thick eerie veil of silence. Nemo took a quiet breath and looked around the bookcase. He kept low to the ground in case the monstrous brute was nearby, that way he would be able to catch a glimpse of the creature before it spotted him.

It was by his precious observation window. The window was covered in its thin sheet of metal to protect the glass when no one was using it. Nemo clenched his jaw as the beast found the lever to open the window and yanked it towards him with enough strength to break the lever clean off. He threw it behind him. With an almost inaudible grating noise, the metal slipped away, revealing the ocean and dark night sky. The Nautilus must have surfaced to renew its air supply and perhaps make more adequate fixes where the ship has suffered earlier damages. It made sense to Quatermain. What better time to launch an attack on the Sword of the Ocean?

Nemo seemed to decide that that moment would be his best chance to strike at the nightmarish brute; Quatermain came to the same conclusion. Quatermain admired Nemo’s fighting style; the movements flowed like a river and yet hit as hard as a tsunami. It was incredible considering the captain’s age. He had the ability to fight this monster, but his leg...

Slowly, silently, Nemo crept out of his hiding place and readied his harpoon. The neck would be his best chance. All he needed was for the beast to stay where it was. He was not in range yet. Quatermain hoped Nemo's luck would finally take a turn for the better.

The creature turned. Nemo winced. He retreated, but by then it was too late. The monster was running at him with its fist ready. It sent Nemo hurtling into the bookcase with a crushing blow from a huge left hand. Nemo hit the ground and clutched onto his side. His harpoon skittered along the floor out of reach. His ribs were now in a very fragile state as well as his ankle. Quatermain feared for breakages.

Nemo tried to get to his feet. It was painstakingly slow. Quatermain could tell by Nemo's drooping face that it sent a vile wave of nausea to wash over him. It had happened to Quatermain enough times to know. Before Nemo could even look up to locate the source of the voice, the monster took hold of his shirt and lifted him off the ground. Its grip was firm and vice-like, the force crushing him and his injuries.

Nemo tried to pull himself free, but the monster adjusted its grip, trapping his arms by his sides. The pain was too much. His teeth were grinding against each other while his body was so tense and rigid that it clearly hurt. Nemo struggled to inhale, groaning and shouting as best he could. The squeezing intensified. Nemo's cries of pain echoed throughout the room. Quatermain feared for the worst, hoping with all his might that Nemo could make it through.

He had to.

* * *

**(*Meanwhile*)**

Quatermain’s vision flashed again. He watched Skinner freeze as he handed a barely conscious Ishmael over to Mina at the infirmary. An alarm had begun to blare throughout the ship.  
"Nemo," he muttered. “I knew I shouldn’t have left him!” As soon as Mina had a firm grip, he hurried down the corridor.

Dr Jekyll looked at the direction the invisible man had no doubt fled.  
"Mrs Harker, I have to help them," he insisted. “We’ll need your help too.”  
Mina sighed as she checked Ishmael's pulse, "Go. I’ll follow, but please be careful."  
Jekyll nodded and staggered off down the corridors. He took his vial of potion from his inside pocket and whipped it down.

Jekyll rounded the corner and dropped to his knees as his body mutated into its new form. It was not the kind of pain that anyone could get used to. He held onto the wall, trying to dig his fingers into the metal to deal with the change. The gruesome transformation came to a swift end. Dr Henry Jekyll was now one very, _very_ angry Mr Edward Hyde...

Skinner sped round each corner, panting and puffing. It would be easy for him to find the captain; the metal walls were dented where the monster had not been agile enough to slow down in time for the corners. The lights above him were flickering and sparking. Something had run through the narrow hallway and Skinner no doubt had a fair guess as to what. The cries of pain he could hear before he even made it to the library made him pick up the pace. He threw open the doors to find Nemo in the clutches of the red Hyde creature.

"Skinner?!" Nemo bellowed. Nemo’s arms were pinned to his sides. It would be impossible for him to get away. The creature was applying an appalling deal of pressure to his torso. A few of Nemo's crewmen were unconscious in a heap, with a smaller bookcase pinning them to the ground. They were hard to spot in such a dimly lit corner, but it was easy for Quatermain to figure out what happened. They had tried but failed to help him.

Nemo was kicking frantically as the creature crushed the air out of his lungs. The clear distress on the captain's face was frustrating. There was no real way for Skinner to help him without ending up like the other crewmen. He wasn't Hercules or anything like that. He was invisible, not strong or immortal. He was as fragile as the next man. Skinner was concentrating on staying silent, but Quatermain didn't know how effective his stealth would be.

"It's no good sneaking around. I can see you heading to the harpoon. It looks rather blunt," the red creature taunted in English. Quatermain heard Skinner hiss. If this creature could see him, he would have to depend on his skills in combat, which were nil. He could not hide away like he could with other enemies. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

"Let him go," Skinner growled.  
"As you wish," it muttered, tossing Nemo at the wall like discarded rubbish. Nemo hit a massive bookcase with a thunk and dropped to the ground. He made no attempt to find his feet. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his chest, desperately trying to dull the pain, gasping for air.  
“No!” Skinner grabbed the harpoon and sped towards the captain, placing himself between the monster and Nemo. He aimed at the creature and threw the harpoon. Despite being no Ned Land, he still managed to embed the spear in his left shoulder, but the creature wasn't affected that much

The beast winced and removed the harpoon and dropped it on the floor. Blood oozed from the wound, but the creature did not care. The harpoon landed close to the wounded captain, almost as if it was taunting them to try again.  
"Kill it," Nemo managed, gasping for breath. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his sides kept him down. Nemo kept trying, not willing to surrender to the pain. Besides, he was in more danger if he stayed still. He had to help Skinner. He had to help his crew. Quatermain could see the desperation in his face.

The second monster came into the library. It did not seem as harsh as the red monster. Or at least, it didn't try to attack. If anything it looked bored. It was followed by the man who had stolen the vials, this time with a large bag in his hand.  
“Fantômas, what did you do?!” he shouted in English, seeing the state Nemo was in. It seemed that injuring the captain was not part of this twisted plan.

Skinner took his chance and began dragging Nemo away from the fight as the three strangers began to speak. But with Nemo being hardly conscious and having such sensitive ribs, it was difficult to make swift progress.

"You were not supposed to wound him," the pale monster continued. It too spoke English this time, perhaps so Skinner understood their intentions?  
"I had no choice," Fantômas argued.  
"Of course you didn't,” the man said, anger flowing through his words like venom. “Let's be off before anyone else appears."

The red monster began to walk towards Skinner, his hand raised ready to strike.

"Skinner, look out!" a feminine voice yelled. Quatermain saw Nemo get moved slightly. Mina’s warning came too late. He hit Skinner and sent him into another bookcase at the other side of the room with a yelp, sending a few books flying. He must have been distracted with Nemo, or had he known and shielded him? Quatermain couldn’t clearly tell. The blow wouldn't have stolen the invisible man's consciousness from him, he hoped, but his vision would at least be swimming for a moment.

"Skinner, get Nemo!" the real Mr Hyde bellowed as he charged towards the red creature. The blue Hyde was dragging an enormous bookcase over to the door just as Nemo's only hope filled the corridors. The rest of his crewmen had arrived, armed to the teeth with blades and harpoons. But the beast had taken precautions already, closing and blocking the door. The bookcase would take a lot of strength to move. Unless Hyde was able to help no one would be able to get in or out of the library.

The man with the bag retreated up to the first floor, out of the way of the conflict with the bag in his hand. He knew as well as Quatermain that carnage was going to ensue.

Quatermain desperately wanted to dive into the vision and help. It was driving him insane. He needed to help, but couldn't… As Ayesha had said, this had not yet occurred and there was not a thing Quatermain could do to change what he saw.

"Skinner, get Nemo out of here," Hyde yelled again. "Run!" Hyde tried to strike the blue creature so it would stop blocking the exit. The creature managed to avoid the mighty punch and retaliated with his own strike against Hyde. Fantômas charged forwards, pinning Hyde against the wall and pounding him with punches. Hyde could only bring his arms up to defend himself, any form of offence impossible.

"Great. Run where? The door is blocked," Skinner grumbled.  
"Skinner... Help me up," Nemo managed, still gasping for breath. Skinner somehow managed to hear Nemo through the bellows of Mr Hyde and his not so friendly twins. Skinner moved over to Nemo and helped him to his feet. Mina managed to get over to the pair to help them.

"My ribs," Nemo gasped in pain as he stood. He leaned forward in an attempt to relieve some of the pain, but he was swaying. "I think they may be broken." Nemo looked terrible. His fists were clenched to try and deal with the pain. He was covered in little beads of sweat. Ragged and worn out, his breathing was rushed and yet dangerously shallow.

"We need to get you out of here. Otherwise that… thing will break more than a rib," Skinner remarked, keeping him up on his feet. The blue monster was staring at Nemo but reluctantly joined the fight as Fantômas was being overwhelmed through Hyde's fury.

It did make Quatermain wonder. Why would they aim their attack towards the captain? Then there was the fact they didn't want him injured. None of it was making sense. What were they doing?

"Nemo, we should move whilst we can," Mina advised, seeing that the monster was glaring at the three with a defiant look even whilst fighting. Skinner was half carrying Nemo, but with three Hydes fighting right beside them, they could not move far without risking being caught in the crossfire. Hyde was doing his best to drive them back. Nemo glanced behind him, wincing at the movement and the sight. Both creatures were attacking Hyde now. One creature would hit Hyde and then the other. Mr Hyde didn't have a chance to defend himself or to strike. He was wearing down.

"Skinner, we must help Hyde," Nemo exclaimed, refusing to move any further.  
"As soon as you are out of the way, I'll help him," Skinner replied. "Don't know how, but I'll figure it out after you're safe."  
Nemo made a few small steps forwards. But as Hyde was thrown onto Nemo’s beloved organ, smashing it to pieces, his focus was captured once more.  
"No, I cannot leave him to these monsters," Nemo said firmly, drawing to a halt again.  
"And we cannot allow you to get hurt any further," Mina argued. "Please, Captain. Trust us. We will help as soon as you are safe."

Nemo was frozen for a second before moving forwards. It was against all nature for him to leave a fight while others were in danger. Mina hurried him along as best he could.

"Nemo, hurry!" Hyde suddenly exclaimed as he was knocked to the ground again. But it was too late. Nemo was snatched out of Skinner's arms.

The creature grabbed Nemo by the front of the shirt in his massive fist with a much weaker grip. Nemo roared in pain as his ribs continued to burn in agony due to the beast’s fingers pressing into his chest. Nemo tried his best to get the creature to let go. He tried to grab his kirpan, but Fantômas adjusted his grip, and it became impossible for him to reach.

"No!" Mina snarled, her eyes illuminating into a deep shade of red. She was about to run forth, but someone grabbed her arm and pulled her backwards. It was Skinner, saving her from being crushed by Hyde falling onto her as he fell again. She rushed behind a bookcase, disappearing from sight. Quatermain noted the molten gleam in her eyes.

"Let go, Fantômas. I will take him. Otherwise, you'll kill him," the blue beast demanded. Fantômas obeyed with a wry smile. Fantômas agreed with that statement and seemed to love every second of making him suffer.

Fantômas smashed through the large glass window whilst Mr Hyde was trying to get up. Then he turned his attention back towards his opponent. Fantômas managed to pin him down and looked unimpressed with Hyde's retaliations. The pale monster jumped off the Nautilus with Nemo down towards the sea. There was no splash, just a thud. What had they landed on?

Skinner threw himself forward, past Hyde and grabbed the harpoon by the red beast's feet. He spun around and rammed it into what Quatermain called 'the arse.' Quatermain would have to remember to congratulate him for such an achievement.   
"Not so blunt after all," Skinner seemed to grin as the red monster howled in pain. It sent Skinner flying back with a blow from a giant right hand.

Skinner was too determined to help his friend and pleased with the result of his attack to anticipate it. With a painful thump, he hit a shelf, definitely unconscious by such a heavy blow. The bookcase rocked back and forth until it toppled onto him. Skinner’s involuntary distraction had however given Hyde a chance to get up and fight again. The red beast threw Hyde into another bookcase, giving them enough time to escape. While it stunned him, Hyde was quickly back on his feet. But he wasn't quite fast enough.

Mina lurked in the shadows with eyes glowing like hot iron. She had managed to find the area of the library which bore the weapons. Knives in hand, she stalked them from a distance, taking her bearings. She had been waiting until Fantômas turned his back to her. Then she struck.

Leaping up and slashing at the monster’s back, she fought with great ferocity. She hacked and slashed but she didn't get to fight for long. Fantômas struggled to get her off him. He had the sense to run back into a wall. It startled Mina enough for him to grab her.

“Lupin, go!” he ordered. He threw Mina as far away from him as he could.

The man, Lupin, Quatermain assumed, dropped the large bag onto the floor beneath him, climbed over the balcony and jumped. He was able to roll to break his fall and snatch up the bag again. It must have been the first time Hyde had seen this man in the room when he recognised him as the thief that had taken his potion.  
“You!” Hyde thundered, trying to get up to fight. Hyde was even more infuriated when Lupin mockingly saluted him. Fantômas walked backwards with arms outstretched, sure to protect him. Once he was safely on board the other ship, Fantômas jumped down also.

Mina raced to catch them but was too late. She looked over the edge of the Nautilus. That's when she saw the answer to how the intruders reached them in the first place. They were on a boat that was waiting for them.

Quatermain wondered if she noticed something on the wooden crates. It was a flag, bearing a golden sun and stars on a black background. Quatermain recognised it from somewhere, but its name would not come to him. It had probably been in the papers.

The pale Hyde finally let go of Nemo, and he fell to the floor in front of at least a dozen men. Quatermain saw that some glass had cut into his skin, tearing up his shirt and showing blood underneath. The beast then backed away and left the other men to deal with him.

Nemo looked to be in so much pain as he drew his kirpan and struggled up to his feet, bent over slightly, his other arm shielding his ribs. He took deep breaths as he tried to compose himself. He braced for the men jumping at him. He had to get off that boat, even if it meant jumping into the sea until the League or the Nautilus _’_ crew could fish him out. He was running out of time. Damnit, he needed help and Quatermain couldn’t do a thing about it! No one was able to do anything about it!

Nemo looked around for a weak spot in the circle but none of the men seemed anywhere near the definition of weak. Lupin was either brave or stupid enough to challenge him unarmed. He stepped forward in the circle. “Stand down, Captain. I don’t want to hurt you. Come quietly now.”  
Nemo ground his teeth together, gripping the knife tighter. “No.”

Mina wasted no time in transforming, swooping down like a falcon towards the ship. Nemo saw her.  
“Mrs Harker, no!” Nemo shouted.  
The crewmen on the ship began to shoot at Mina. Quatermain saw the risk this conflict would carry. They were prepared for this battle, armed with stakes, bottles of what Quatermain guessed was holy water, and metal weapons. It was a death trap for her. She stood no chance, whatever her strength.

With a hiss, Mina began to fly down, knowing Nemo wouldn’t get a better chance. Fantômas saw her approach and took up a harpoon. With incredible accuracy, he was able to hit her with it. The force of the blow sent her flying back into the ship. She screamed, writhing in pain on the floor of the ship. The weapon was stuck in her torso, and she struggled to try and prize it out by the handle. For a moment, Quatermain didn’t understand why it hurt as much as it did, she had a strong tolerance, but then it clicked. 

The harpoon was made of iron, and iron burned vampires. She must have been in agony!

Lupin used Nemo’s slight break in concentration to spring forward, to grab Nemo’s wrist and try to twist his arm behind his back. Nemo was quick and elbowed him in the head as hard as he could before Lupin could ‘lock it’ so to speak. It was enough to loosen Lupin’s grip. The movement still clearly hurt Nemo’s ribs, but he didn’t have the time to worry about that. He only just managed to slip free of the hold and slash at Lupin again, succeeding in catching his arm. Lupin hissed and held onto the top of his arm, not pleased with the blood he saw dripping down.

Nemo reached out to attack Lupin again, perhaps if he could hold him at knifepoint he could get away, but Nemo was in such a bad way. He could barely stand as the ship rocked back and forth on the bigger waves. Lupin grabbed his arm yet again as he lunged and attacked the pressure point in his wrist. Nemo hit him in the face, but it came too late. The blade fell out of his hands. He was just too tired to continue fighting. Quatermain could see it so easily in his body, how hard he was trying to push himself.

The two backed away from each other. Nemo leaned against the mast, trying to catch his breath, to settle the pain of his wounds. He needed to get off the ship, to hell with fighting.

In a desperate attempt, Nemo tried to rush to the side of the ship, breaking out of the circle with ease as a bad wave made a few men fall over. He made it to the railings, but Lupin rushed at him and grabbed Nemo before he could go overboard, wrapping his arms around his waist. He picked him up and managed to throw Nemo behind him, twisting his face with exertion. Nemo hit the deck hard, rolling over yet more glass.

Nemo landed on his front, stunned, dizzy, beaten, and yet despite all of that, he tried to drag himself back up to his hands and knees. His arms shook with exertion and he looked up at the man with a weak glare. He didn’t have much left in him. He needed help.

Lupin stepped in quickly to push Nemo back down to the ground, snatching up his arms and handcuffing them behind his back. Quatermain could only imagine Nemo’s frustration, being awake, and yet so powerless. He was in too much pain and was simply scooped up, gathered up like it was nothing. Humiliation was a feeling that came to mind.  
“That’s enough now, Captain,” Lupin advised. He kept Nemo pinned down on the ground until two other men came, one holding a syringe. The three of them had no difficulty in pressing the needle into Nemo’s skin and easing the contents into his body. Nemo tried to struggle, but he was securely pinned.

“No,” he managed as his eyes slipped closed. After that, it was easy to drag him below.

It seemed Hyde was not happy about the boat getting away. He was about to try his luck once more and jump onto the boat, but he was peppered with gunfire. He was forced to move back to save himself from horrific injuries.

There was no way Nemo could be saved yet, not without a great loss. It was too risky. They had to admit defeat.

Hyde had to turn his attention to Mina, and the pain she was in. She’d given up trying to get it out. She lay on her back, still writhing and clawing at the ground. Hyde approached her, his chest heaving with exhaustion. “Hold on,” he said, somewhat soothingly. Hyde had to help her remove the harpoon which had so grotesquely yanked her from the air. The barb was a problem, and Mina’s cries of pain echoed around the room as Hyde took it out as carefully as he was capable of.

As soon as the iron was gone, Mina forced herself to sit up, holding her stomach in pain, gasping for air. She winced deeply, but at least the wound started to close.

They watched as the ship immediately began to sail away at about twenty-five knots, their chances of helping the captain growing slimmer and slimmer. Mina looked so angry and troubled. Nemo was a great friend and he was drifting away in front of her eyes. She stared at the boat, she seared it into her memory like a branding. She wasn't going to forget it. Without even being there, Quatermain knew that much. She'd get him back.

Her staring was disrupted by a mighty explosion sounding from nearby. The actions of the pale Hyde and Lupin during the attack became clear. The ship had no doubt been rigged with bombs to prevent the League from following. A vampiric growl escaped Mina’s lips. These men would pay. Something told Quatermain that no matter how much holy water they had, she would help Nemo.

Quatermain knew the crew would be dealing with the explosion. He hoped no one was hurt. It seemed like it had come from the Engine Room, where it would have caused a great deal of damage- though hopefully nothing fatal. At least they were at the surface. Mina could not help with the explosion. She had to make sure Skinner was all right- and Jekyll when he returned to them. She struggled to her feet, looking a little shaken.

Skinner started groaning as he came around, but his voice was weak. "Nemo... w.where's Nemo?" Hyde lifted the bookcase away from Skinner with a little too much force. Mina ignored his anger and unburied the invisible man from underneath all of the books.  
"Stay still," Mina soothed.  
"He is not badly hurt. You can help him,” Hyde said. It seemed Hyde could see Skinner, though Quatermain wasn't sure how.

"Then let's get him back somewhere safe. I may need you to be my eyes..."

* * *

 **Kenya: August 9th  
** **(Continued)**

The horrifying vision had finally ended.

Quatermain woke with a gasp. He stood in stunned silence for a second before his stare hardened. Ayesha stood beside him, waiting for him to speak.  
"I've been gone for how long and they’ve gotten themselves into trouble?”  
“It was your funeral today. The League left several hours ago. Although I cannot tell you what may come to pass, the League needs your guidance. There is far far more to this than meets the eye; you must free Nemo,” Ayesha explained.

“Has the League been warned about what will happen?” Quatermain asked.  
“No, and they must not know,” Ayesha said firmly.  
“Why not?! You’re going to put Nemo and the others through all of that when it can be avoided? Who is it that has him?!” he exclaimed.  
“I cannot say, and the League must not know,” Ayesha replied, stressing every syllable. For a moment she reminded Quatermain of Mina: Dangerous. She was the one who revived him. He needed to show his gratitude, even if he hated what she was planning to do.

“I’m sorry, My Lady,” he sighed, forcing his frustration away.  
“I understand your concern, Allan, but you must trust in me. What Nemo will learn is vital. More good will come of this than you believe, though I cannot tell you how. You will be reunited with the League soon.”

The old hunter was silent for a moment, allowing the task at hand to sink in. He hated it, but at least he could help them eventually.  
“All right, Ayesha. I'm in... Can you at least tell me where do I need to go?"  
"Belgium. The League will meet you there."  
“They know I’m alive?” Quatermain questioned, hope escaping into his voice.  
“No, but they will when they see you,” Zikali said.

"Then I’ll try to let them know," he replied, reaching down to pick an all too familiar rifle up from the floor.

“No one must know of what is to happen or that you are alive.” Quatermain stopped in his tracks. “Again, doing that will pose much greater risks for the League. Understand this, Macumazahn. The League must remain ignorant to the future,” Ayesha continued as a warning.  
Quatermain grumbled in frustration, looking away from the two and shaking his head. His eyes fell upon his upturned grave. He mentally agreed to what was being said, but it went against everything Quatermain felt was right. This would not be an easy burden to carry. 

“Sawyer,” Quatermain suddenly said. “Where will he be during all this? I did not see him on the ship. Is he alright?”  
“He will return home safely before this happens. Again, the American must not know of your revival. Doing so will affect everything. You must not make contact with the League until they arrive in Belgium,” Ayesha explained calmly.

Quatermain sighed in both relief and partial annoyance. It would take a while to get to Belgium, and he didn’t know how long he’d have to wait for the League to get there. 

Quatermain looked to the gravestone beside his own. His son’s gravestone. It seemed to sober him up as he realised the stakes. If he didn’t do as he was ordered, something would change- and it could prove to be fatal. Ayesha was far more knowledgeable than the hunter, but by God, he hated every single part of the instructions she had given him. Nonetheless, he knew she must be obeyed- no wonder her people called her that. 

“Alright.”  
“Good,” Ayesha smiled. “I can tell you more on the way.”

 _Let’s hope she knows what she’s doing,_ Quatermain thought to himself. _Whoever these people are, they mean business. I just pity the souls who come to the League asking for trouble…_

With that hopeful thought in mind, Quatermain grimly nodded in approval and began following the two to the horse and cart waiting for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no regrets ^^'


	4. Unexpected Meetings

**Chapter 4 - Unexpected Meetings  
** **Washington, America: September 5th, 1899**

Tom Sawyer was now on the verge of tears from frustration. The minute he thought he had conquered the mountain of paperwork, one of the receptionists slumped an even larger pile onto his desk. Sawyer was sure he heard a little creak from the old wooden table. Being back at his office, which was nestled in the headquarters of the Secret Service, proved to be irritatingly tiring.

"Miss Finch, is there any more of this... paperwork?" Sawyer asked, refraining from using any colourful language in front of the young woman. Miss Finch was a small and dainty woman with her curly brown hair reaching down to her shoulders. She reminded him of an expensive porcelain doll; beautiful, fragile, and a treasure to respect.  
"I'm afraid so, Mr Sawyer. A lot happened when you were away," she answered, straightening up the pile before rubbing her arm.   
Sawyer groaned, crossing his arms on the desk and allowing his head to drop onto them.    
"I expect you’d like a coffee?" she asked. Sawyer sighed. Of course, he needed it; it was only ten in the morning.

"Coffee sounds great, Angelina. Thanks," he said. He looked up to her as he spoke and then let his head fall against the desk again. "Y'know, sometimes I really hate this job... I need something to do. Please say someone is runnin' in here with a mission for me. I'm not cut out for paperwork."  
Sawyer jolted upright, scaring himself as there was a knock on the door. He'd been told off far too many times by his boss for slouching and he didn't want to imagine the response if he was found imitating a tablecloth.  
  
"You certainly have a way with timing, Mr Sawyer," Miss Finch remarked with a smile. She brushed the wrinkles out of her navy blue dress.  
"I guess I do, don't I? Come on in."

Briskly, Mr White entered Sawyer's office. He was an impressive-looking man that gave off an air of pride and strength with whatever he did. At almost six feet tall, broad at the shoulders and narrower at the hips, he was not a man Sawyer would like to annoy. His bulging brown eyes could cut through stone, a glare famous among Sawyer's peers. White was not the friendliest of men, but you could always trust him to get results.

He kept away from all the mess scattered around the room. Sawyer was now very grateful he had sat up. Mr White was even worse than the boss. He hated any kind of dirt or unkemptness with a burning passion. It was like he was allergic to it. It surprised Sawyer that he didn't at least get a lecture for his office's current state. Was Sawyer's involvement in helping to prevent a world war the reasoning behind the minor restraint? Somehow, Sawyer doubted it made a huge difference to the man who was slightly his superior.

There was still an expression of displeasure on Mr White's face. Sawyer's office was not in the best state, but it had been worse. There were lots of random papers on the top of filing cabinets and desks. He'd known it would be best to clean it up at some point, but for the time being, he just wanted to be outside and let it continue to pile up. The floor was clear, but the desk in the far corner was the only place that was truly spotless. It was his old partner's, Agent Finn. Or rather, Huck, as Sawyer always called him. He still wasn't used to be it being empty, he doubted he ever would.

The desk was made of some kind of dark wood, with patterns etched across the sides and down into its drawers and cupboards. Sawyer remembered when the two first moved in. Huck had won the fight for the nice desk. Even after everything, Sawyer couldn't consider the idea of taking it over. It was, and always would be, Huck's desk.  He missed Huck sitting at that desk, doing daft things behind Mr White's back. Though the large man intimidated most and made people try to avoid his bad side, Huck seemed to take it as a challenge. Sawyer had no idea how he managed to keep straight-faced during his partner's attempts to bother Mr White.

Sawyer smiled to himself, thinking of the times when Huck had sat behind White, imitating him. He would also show his emotions through pantomime. For pity and sorrow, he'd play the violin. A surprise was mockingly putting his hands on his cheeks and dropping his jaw. Sawyer’s personal favourite was whenever he could no longer fight the urge of not snickering, White’s bellows would intensify. Huck’s answer to this was to act afraid, which made it even harder to stay straight-faced. And yet whenever White turned around, Huck managed to be sitting normal, letting Sawyer get into trouble. Those had been good days...

But times had changed. He couldn't think too much about his memories of the past. It was time to focus on the present and future.

"A letter for you, Sawyer. It was mixed in with my post," Mr White grumbled.  
"Thank you, sir."

Happy for any distraction from his piles of paperwork, Sawyer took the white envelope. He examined it for a moment. Mr White tugged at the bottom of his grey blazer and left as quickly as he came, eager to leave the mess and chaos of the room behind. Sawyer ignored him and looked at the wax that had sealed the envelope. Pressed into the wax was an ‘N’ with a small emblem above it. That was Nemo's mark. Sawyer's chest fizzled with excitement, hoping that the letter was what he thought it was.

"If I may say so, it's not often you receive letters, Mr Sawyer."   
"Oh, this? It's from a group of close friends."   
He opened it with a little silver letter opener from his desk and read the contents of the letter:

_ Dear Tom Sawyer,  _

_ While I wish the circumstances of our correspondence to you were of a happier note, I am afraid we are in urgent need of your assistance. Captain Nemo has been taken. _

_ A short time ago, Dr Jekyll found a thief stealing a few bottles of his potion. However, before he could get to them, two other men both drank two bottles each of the formula. The expected results of such action soon followed. _

_ Dr Jekyll transformed into Mr Hyde to aid the fight, but their combined strength overwhelmed us. During the attack, Nemo was taken by the monsters. He received several injuries but, from what I observed, none looked to be potentially fatal, or at least that’s what we hope. We do not know who is responsible or why he was the target of this attack.  _

_ Nemo was moved onto a small ship but we could not pursue them. The two monsters and a third man caused a lot of damage on board the Nautilus. We couldn't follow the ship until we repaired our engine which provided plenty of time for their escape. _

_ We are on our way to collect you even as I send this message. By the time you receive it, we shall no doubt already be at the port waiting.  _

_ Yours Faithfully, _

_ Wilhelmina 'Mina' Harker. _

As he finished reading, Sawyer grimaced, "I'd rather do the paperwork than have this happen." Then he shook his head and turned towards his secretary, "Miss Finch, I'm afraid I have to leave right away. Could you go and tell Mr White for me, please? My friends need my help- it’s an emergency."  Miss Finch nodded and scurried after Mr White without a word. The lack of comments or questions about the letter was welcome. There were plenty of thoughts on his mind now without more input.

Sawyer had been back from his previous mission for a few months now. It had involved the fate of the world and the newly-formed League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, of which they considered him a member. He didn't see himself as extraordinary, especially in comparison to the others. But he had found the challenge of the adventure to be exhilarating and he'd enjoyed his time with all of them, especially Quatermain.

Sawyer took a measured breath, rubbing the back of his neck. His concern for Nemo only managed to worsen as memories crept back into his thoughts. Quatermain had taken him under his wing during his time with the League. He had taught, led, and watched out for Sawyer while they chased down their enemy across the globe. When they finally cornered James Moriarty in Mongolia, events took a darker turn.

Allan Quatermain had died to protect him. Behind his thick mask, Sawyer was still grieving. Sawyer glanced up to the empty desk tucked away in the corner of the room. He had not even finished grieving for his fellow agent and best friend before it happened- and now this?

He ran his hands down his face before picking up the next piece of paperwork and began to flick through the pages, hoping to take his mind away from the old hunter and his brother-like partner and on to something useful. He needed to figure out the best way to make his excuses to his superiors. He couldn’t leave without an explanation. Would the letter be enough?

Sawyer sighed again and continued to flick through the papers for inspiration. A distinct image caught his eye: A sun on a black background with several stars dotted around it. Simple enough but, for some reason, the image captured Sawyer’s interest. Curiosity urged him to look closer, although the hum of activity outside the room prevented him from focusing. He only succeeded in it reminding him of Nemo's insignia.

Grim pictures flashed through his mind of Nemo being held by his captors. What were they doing to him at that very moment? Were they looking after him? Hurting him? Sawyer gave up. Any possibility of searching further among the paperwork for valid excuses was futile. He'd have to be honest with his superiors and hope they accepted his reasoning. If all else failed, he could arrange for some time off from his job for 'personal reasons’. Regardless, he couldn't stay at his desk any longer. He'd rather lose his job than not be able to help.

Nemo was the one man in the League whom Sawyer did not expect to be in such danger. For all that he was mortal and unaltered by science, Nemo seemed nearly invincible in person and could hold his own among the League. Only now did Sawyer consider the possibility of someone beating him.

A shiver crawled up Sawyer's back- he now also hated his imagination. His mind was betraying him with unpleasant ideas of what might be happening to the man. Sawyer threw the booklet down onto his desk in frustration and held his head in his hands.

"She's a nice girl," a voice remarked loudly, almost a shout.

Sawyer flung himself out of his seat. Unfortunately, the instinct to dodge possible threats did not come with grace and coordination. He ended up in a heap on the floor. The paperwork slipped from the desk, stray papers flew into the air and then fluttered to the ground. One of the drawers had fallen out from the dark green filing cabinet where the American agent had tried to save himself and a few files escaped. Only after the chaos did a recognition strike.

"Skinner!" he scolded, throwing a pencil at where he guessed the invisible man to be standing.   
"Well, hello to you too," Skinner said casually, avoiding the little projectile. Sawyer could hear him chuckling beneath his breath.  
"Yeah, well- How the hell did you get in here, anyway?" Sawyer asked, standing up and dusting himself off. "I'm invisible, Sawyer," he said, his tone demonstrating that Skinner was grinning. "It's easy. I put the letter in some grumpy fella’s pile and he led me straight to you."

"Very funny. Though I gotta admit it's nice to see you again," Sawyer said, doing his best to pick up all the work. Skinner snorted a slight chuckle. Sawyer still ended up saying it was nice to  _ see  _ him. In all honesty, Sawyer had missed him, even with his exceptional skill in aggravating him.  
"You know what I meant! Let's get out of here and you can explain what's going on the way. I’ll have to find an excuse for why I’m leaving first though.”  
"Well, ladies first."

Sawyer grumbled, but he didn't hide his smile. He finished putting the paperwork into a quick pile and led the way towards the door. Sawyer hoped Skinner would have the good sense to remain silent during that meeting. No one would be happy with the idea of someone infiltrating the building.

Sawyer looked back and felt sorry at the pile that Miss Finch would have to sort through. He would have to make it up to her in some way.  
"Come on, Sawyer. Time for another little adventure."

Sawyer shook his head and tried to smile. He usually loved the action-packed times like this but concern dampened his spirits. The situation ruined any enjoyment he had at the idea of reuniting with the League.

Still, something told Sawyer that Nemo would be all right. Perhaps it was his optimism or simple instinct. Either way, there was a small glow of confidence that they would find him. They had to and there was no chance of them giving up.

With that hopeful thought in mind, Sawyer grabbed his black coat from beside his desk and headed out the door.


	5. Strange Occurences

**Chapter 5 - Strange Occurrences  
** **(Continued)**

Hundreds of thoughts whizzed through Sawyer's mind as he and Skinner returned to the Nautilus in Nemo's automobile. Ishmael drove. There were so many questions in need of answering. It was hard to determine a good place to start and so they were quiet for a while. But they had some time to wait until they arrived at the ship and Sawyer wasn't looking forward to spending the entire trip that way.

"So… how has the League been since I left?" he asked finally. The silence irritated him. Skinner was never usually this quiet near him.  
Skinner smiled weakly. "For starters, it's been strange without you, Sawyer. I've had no one to have a decent conversation with."  
Sawyer smiled to himself, feeling almost… flattered, by the fact someone missed him. It was nice to have someone want him around.

"I know you can say a lot more than that. How's everyone after what happened?"

Skinner took his hat off and scratched his head. The quiet was a little disconcerting for the agent. Were they taking it worse than he first thought?  "It's hard to say," Skinner eventually said. "We've licked our wounds but none of us are that big on talking to each other about that sort of thing. I think we're all just worried. Nemo took a really good beating, especially for someone his age. He kept fighting until there was nothing left in him from what I heard. From what I’ve seen of the League, Mina is blaming herself for not doing more and Hyde’s been giving Jekyll a hard time."

Sawyer turned to face Skinner as much as his seat would let him. He looked at the two darker areas that marked the holes in the greasepaint where Skinner's eyes would be. Sawyer could see all the way through him and out the window out of the other side. It was odd, but it had taken almost no time for him to grow used to the invisible man's unique situation. “And you?” Sawyer asked.  
Skinner sighed, “I’m getting by, I guess. Keep thinking about what I could’ve done differently. I try not to really think about it- I just get worked up. I shouldn't have left him, I knew I shouldn't have let him go by himself-"

"Hey, we both know what Nemo is like. I doubt he gave you a choice. It sounds like these people have been pretty determined to get him anyway. I don’t think any of you doing anything differently would have changed things. Getting ambushed by two Hydes ain’t a fair fight," Sawyer admitted.  
"Oh they were determined alright, but we're not sure why- or how. The Nautilus stopped and surfaced because we were low on air. The other ship must have somehow gotten to us. It hid in one of the Nautilus’ blind spots. We had no idea it was there until it was too late.”

This was planned, fully intentional, and cruel. It wasn’t just Nemo they’d hurt but the League, and no doubt some of the crew too. How were they meant to fix this? Why had they come all this way to get him? What was he going to be able to do to get Nemo back? He’d already failed too many friends, who was to say Nemo wasn’t going to be next? A thick sickly feeling of hopelessness started to wash over him and drained him of energy.

Skinner said, snapping Sawyer out of his thoughts, "Although, there was something else. I was accused of taking something a little while before the attack. It had to have been a few hours before he was taken. Nemo asked me nicely about it and all, but I didn't take it. The old boy wasn’t impressed either way. He was fuming until it showed up again. Nemo wouldn't say what he thought I had stolen. It was like he didn't want anyone to know. It's still a mystery to us now."

Ishmael glanced up at the rear-view mirror - a new addition to the automobile that Nemo had added- and a flash of worry fell onto his face. Sawyer saw him nibbling his bottom lip. He wasn't keen on Skinner talking about the captain, even if what he said were kind words for the situation.

Sawyer listened, itching for more information when Skinner stopped. There was a strange look on his face. Something had clicked into place in his mind. It was an impression Sawyer saw many times in his job.  
"What is it?" he asked.   
"I'll check the library again when we get back… Maybe I'm not thinking this through. After all, I haven't been up on my feet for long since I got clobbered. Even then we were too busy trying to get the Nautilus up and running for me to actually pay attention and look for any clues."  
"I'll help you. I might see something that you're just used to. Fresh eyes and everything, y'know?" Sawyer offered. Skinner nodded with a smile.

Sawyer couldn't help looking at the front passenger seat. It was bare without Nemo. Ishmael, who was driving, looked so lost without the captain. Usually, the two would speak amongst themselves and exchange glances. Now Ishmael only looked ill. He had dark circles around his eyes and no doubt wasn't eating as much as he should. Sawyer understood that reaction from past experience. He would definitely be keeping an eye on him.

Sawyer wished he could say something to raise his spirits, but nothing came into his mind. Instead, he tried to get some sleep to save himself from a headache that he could feel lingering in the back of his head. He knew he'd need a few hours rest, almost ten in the morning or not. Nothing he would say right now could help Ishmael…

But it could help Nemo.

"Ishmael?"  
Ishmael flinched. "Yes, Mr Sawyer?"   
"Do you know what went missing?"   
"I… uh," Ishmael cleared his throat, shuffling uncomfortably. "I don't think the Captain would appreciate me talking about such matters- but I will say it was certainly taken and not just misplaced."

Sawyer slipped into his professional state of mind. This could prove to be an important clue. If the men who kidnapped Nemo were on the Nautilus for a while before they attacked, it was likely that they had stolen the objects. He was sure no one else on the Nautilus would steal from Nemo and Skinner said he didn't do it. Sawyer believed him. It meant Sawyer had to know what they took. He couldn't accept anything except a straight answer.

"If we don't know what was taken, how can we help Nemo? Whatever it was could help us find him, Ishmael. So far it's our only lead. I know why you won't tell us. You're loyal to him and I respect that, but I wouldn't ask unless it was necessary."  
Through the reflection of the mirror, Sawyer could see that his words were having an effect on the man. He understood the logic. But Ishmael did not reply. Not ready to give up yet, Sawyer asked "Could you at least tell me back on board? Would that work?"   
Ishmael hesitantly nodded. “Yes, Mr Sawyer.”

Sawyer left Nemo's first mate alone after that. He exchanged a curious glance with Skinner but that was all. Whatever had been taken seemed to have a great value and was not something to be gossiped about. He hoped Ishmael would open up later. Sawyer wondered if Ishmael was afraid Skinner would take offence of the accusation. He doubted it but decided to let the matter settle. As long as he got the answer soon, he could wait for a little while.

Sawyer hoped his coffee would kick in soon and help him to think. Miss Finch had seen the spy 'escaping' the building earlier. She didn't know exactly what was going on, but she tried to help as best she could. She gave him a coffee as he left and wished him luck. He'd apologized in advance for the paperwork.

Sawyer appreciated the gesture. He had been working with paperwork for days on end before Skinner came to his rescue and if the long hours hadn't already worn him down, the sheer boredom of it was enough to sap a man's energy. But it would take more than a coffee to keep him awake and it would take more than luck to find Nemo.

Sawyer closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall back against the headrest. Though the automobile without a roof was destroyed in the explosion in Venice, there was still this one and new ones had been made. Sawyer couldn’t help but smile at the fact that Nemo still took the time to make them so comfortable as well as practical.  Nemo did so much for the League without their noticing: the Nautilus, the automobiles, accommodation, all the supplies, right down to making comfortable seats. He'd lost good men in helping their cause. Regardless of what the man might have been rumoured to do in the past, he was a valued, irreplaceable, and appreciated teammate and friend. The sooner they got their captain back, the better.

"So, I think our departure went quite well," Skinner remarked after a while. Sawyer internally groaned. Why did Skinner have to restart a conversation now? Although he preferred the invisible thief to be talkative, Sawyer was beginning to feel like he was about to drift off to sleep. Tiredness and the almost hypnotic humming of the engine was too strong to resist.

"Sneaking out and leaving a note on my desk instead of waiting for White to get back is anything but 'quite well'. He and the boss will have my head," Sawyer replied, although he didn't open his eyes. Skinner chuckled, likely still amused by the way he had startled the spy. Sawyer sighed, realising he wouldn't be resting anytime soon. He opened one eye and looked across to the grinning thief.

"I'm serious. I'd rather take a bullet than face White in a foul mood. Sure glad he isn't around much."  
"Aww, come on, Sawyer. It can't be that bad."  
It was Sawyer's turn to laugh now, "Wanna bet? Name your price. I'll bring you along to White's office when I get back after all this. When you can finally hear again, after he finishes bellowing and maybe fires me, you can pay up."  
Skinner raised an eyebrow, "That bad, Heh? Alright then, done. Least then you can spend all your time with your dearest freaky darlings."

Sawyer tutted with a weak smirk. At least Skinner seemed amused at the idea. Sawyer wasn't looking forward to that encounter at all. It had been bearable before now, but this would be his first scolding without Huck and that fact alone would make it a tough one. He wouldn't get into as much bother without Huck there arguing with White the whole time, but it didn't make him any braver.

Huck…

Sawyer tried to push the thoughts aside, only to wedge them in further. Sawyer was growing annoyed with himself. It wasn't fair. Huckleberry Finn. Allan Quatermain. He kept losing them. He kept losing the people he cared about the most. Why couldn't he ever stop it? It was innocent blood on his hands, their deaths were his fault and now Nemo was gone without a trace.

He couldn't actually understand what he was doing there. Why did the League want him back? He wasn't that extraordinary in comparison to them. He'd slow them down or get in the way somehow like before. People would get hurt if he wasn't careful. He began to doubt whether he should have come after all.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't realize that Skinner noticed his sudden mood change.  
"Sawyer?"  
It took a long time for him to reply; t hat was all that Skinner needed to know something was wrong. Granted, with how everything had been going lately, there were a lot of things wrong. But Skinner seemed to realise this was something not directly connected to a couple of Hyde-like monsters smashing their way through the Nautilus and stealing away Nemo.

Sawyer muttered, "I’ll help if I can but... I don't think I should be coming with you to find Nemo. I'll probably just mess things up..." And with that answer, Skinner knew what was wrong immediately.

"Tom, we need you for this. What happened back at Mongolia-"  
"What happened back in Mongolia was my fault," Sawyer snapped. Then his face softened and his anger became guilt. "I let my guard down. I got him killed. I almost got you killed! If I hadn't. If I just-" Sawyer sighed, covering his mouth with his hand and turned away to look out the window. "Doesn't matter," he mumbled.

There was no way in the world the thief was going to let that stand. Glancing ahead of him, Skinner saw Ishmael was looking at the agent with concern.  
"Sawyer," Skinner began, leaning forward. He didn't move or speak. Skinner wasn't one to give up quite so easily, however. He pulled his hand away from his face, which made Sawyer look at him again.

He looked surprised at how Sawyer’s calm mask was put back on with ease. He tucked away those feelings again, hiding them from sight in an attempt to appear all right. He'd had plenty of practice. It was a little impressive and someone who didn't know him might even believe it.

"First things first, I chose to get into that fight, Sawyer. I chose to help you out and you had no say in that. I’m healed up now and I'm alright. You don’t have to worry about me. And Quatermain? You didn't kill him. That was Moriarty, same goes for your other friend from what I've heard. It was Moriarty, not you. Can you imagine Allan’s face if he saw you like this? I'd be more scared of him than that Mr White you were complaining about.” Skinner sighed. “Look, we need you to help us. We've been thinking about this for days and you've probably just given us a lead in five minutes. You're our best chance at finding Nemo, but you need to let this guilt go. For all our sakes."

Skinner waited for a reaction. Sawyer thought back to Quatermain's last words,  _ Let this new century be yours… As the old one was mine. _ He did want him to continue being part of the League and even seemed to think that he could lead it one day. It just seemed like too big of an ask considering everything that had happened.

He wasn't certain that he was worthy as Quatermain's successor or if he deserved such a thing, but Sawyer couldn't ignore the man's last words. He had to at least attempt to fulfil Quatermain's wishes. It was his turn to help watch over the League, Africa, and the world. For Nemo's sake, he had to believe he could do it. He had to try.  


He swallowed hard, "I... I guess I can try."  
Skinner nodded and leaned back on his seat. "Thank you. You should get some sleep. I've seen Mina look better on a morning- Don't tell her I said that." Sawyer smiled and shook his head. Skinner sneaking around in the early mornings, poking his head in on everyone, typical. That was the League he’d missed so much.

"We'll see," Sawyer muttered, with an innocent expression. Skinner chuckled at Sawyer's reaction. Deciding to follow the thief's advice, Sawyer closed his eyes and tried to get some rest.

He was a little surprised to realise it, but his spirits had been lifted a little thanks to Skinner. Yes, he'd lost a lot of good people. But blaming himself for everything didn't do anyone any good. Right now he had to help Nemo however he could and give it his all. Nemo depended on it. He just had to be careful and make no more stupid mistakes. As long as he kept telling himself that, Sawyer imagined getting back to his old self soon enough. He and Skinner both knew this wasn't the sort of thing that just disappeared overnight.

He wasn't responsible for the actions of his friends or those that killed them. All he was responsible for were his own actions and he'd done everything he could think of to help them. And even if he failed in the past to save Huck and Quatermain, that didn't mean he should give up. He would redeem himself. He had to save Nemo.


	6. Troubled Waters

**Chapter 6 - Troubled Waters  
** **English Channel: August 29th**

After an imperceptible amount of time, Nemo found himself becoming aware of his own existence once again. Agitated and anxious, the return from the depths of unconsciousness was an uneasy one. He felt so weak and sluggish, so sore and battered...

Pain swept up to meet him but it was a dull and distant sensation. For a moment he did not understand why he was hurting. Everything felt so washed out and clouded but his thoughts sharpened as he pulled himself together. How had he come to be unconscious? Of course, the attack, the monsters and that man... But what had happened since?

Nemo managed to pry his eyes open. A stinging light flooded into his vision, causing him to reluctantly close them again. It seemed that he wouldn't be able to get a proper look at his surroundings quite yet. 

One by one, the rest of his senses began to clear again for him to depend on. A chill slithered around his torso, like a frigid snake scratching and squeezing at his flesh. His shirt had been removed. The pain was starting to become bolder now. The more he came round, the more intense the pain he acknowledged. Whatever drug he’d had forced into his system was fighting to keep him under.

The smell of cleaning alcohol hung in the air. Nemo swallowed back a dry throat and the rusty aftertaste of blood filled his mouth, or was it already there? His concern grew for himself as did his need to act against whatever it was he faced. Was he in danger?

"He is beginning to stir, Lupin," someone close warned. He spoke French but he had said enough for him to determine something important. This voice was new and did not belong to any French speakers on board the Nautilus _. _ He wasn’t on his ship, he wasn’t safe and despite his unease, he could do nothing. Nemo had never felt more feeble. He wanted to rest and sink back into the painless sea of unconsciousness, but he needed to know where he was, what these men were doing to him.

"Keep him still for me. I'm not finished yet," Lupin instructed. Nemo recognised his voice… Lupin? It took him a moment to remember where he had heard that name. It came to him quickly: the man from the boat. The man who had overwhelmed him in that impossible fight. It was him! It was enough to confirm he was being held captive. His stomach flipped with dread. He too spoke French but it did not matter to him. The captain understood them word for word. 

Nemo had no idea what needed 'finishing', but he was not going to lie there and wait to find out. He tried to bring his hand up to his aching chest, but it would not move. He tried the other arm but it proved to no avail. That was when it became clear in his mind that, judging by the cold, firm nature of the surface beneath him and the aching pain in his shoulders and neck, he was bound to a table.

It seemed so obvious now that he was awake enough to pay attention. He could feel the ropes stretched across his body, holding him steady and ensuring he could not struggle. The pain was finally back in full force by that point. His torso felt like it was on fire, with around his ribs feeling especially sharp and intense. His ankle also felt like it had taken heavy damage; there was a pulsing spike of pain that made certain to complain about his previous attempts to run on it. He winced but bit back any noise of pain.

He opened his eyes once more and denied them their desperate request to close again. It stung like salt to a wound and the pain was reluctant to leave. As a result, he had to squint at first.

Two men were present in the room, as he'd already guessed from the voices. The first looked to have albinism. His pale face and pure white hair seemed to be emphasised by the blackness in his clothes, but it was his pale blue eyes, with a reddish tinge that attracted the attention of one’s gaze.

There was little more than that the captain could determine about the man, other than the assumption that he was called Zenith as he was ready to restrain him. He was standing on Nemo's right-hand side and had his hands out, ready to pin him down if he was to move too much.

The second man, Lupin, wore a white shirt, though he had rolled up his sleeves. He gave Nemo the impression of a man somewhat similar to Skinner: cunning as a fox and clever as a crow. He was around thirty, perhaps older, but showed little signs of ageing. His eyes were a striking deep brown and they seemed to burn with energy. He had a thick head of dark brown hair which looked lined with sweat. His arm was wrapped with a make-shift bandage to cover the wound on the top of his arm, the only wound Nemo had managed to give him.

Nemo was furious at himself. He shouldn't have been beaten so easily. He had been armed where Lupin was not. He should have dug deeper for more strength and kept going. He'd let his pain control him, but oh, there had been so much pain... Even as he lay there, he realised just how far he had pushed himself, how much his body complained and cried as it began to heal.

Nemo lifted his head to look at what was going on. He saw Lupin sitting in a chair on Nemo's left and cleaned a few of his cuts and scratches. He remained quiet, focusing on the task at hand. Nemo felt his largest wound had already been sewn back together but a firm hand pushed him down before he could determine anything else. He winced as a brief flash of pain scampered across his head and chest, leaving him feeling dizzy.   
"Gently, Zenith," Lupin scolded.

Nemo opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Only a weak moan he was surprised to hear come from himself. It awarded him nothing but more exhaustion and a horrid thirst.  
Lupin’s tone softened as his attention returned to Nemo. He spoke with good English in a bid to reassure him, "Lie still,  _ mon ami _ . There are only a few pieces left to remove and then I can bind the worst of these wounds."

Curious of this stranger and left with no alternative, Nemo lay as still as he could, but he was still in pain and uncomfortable. His breathing was raspy and his throat was scratchy. He needed a drink, though his stubborn pride told Nemo not to ask for anything. It hurt to even breathe.

To distract himself, Nemo began to consider his surroundings. The smell of alcohol was coming from a bottle near a piece of bloodstained cloth. At least Lupin was trying to tend to his wounds. The ceiling and walls were made of dull grey metal. It was far less welcoming than the walls of the Nautilus. This place was made for nothing more than practicality, unlike his ship.

There was a quiet humming in the air. Nemo had heard this sound for most of his adult life; it was the sound of an engine. The familiarity should have served as a comfort but it instead unnerved him. He knew it was not the Nautilus and that turned what could have been a comforting noise into a horrible danger. Moriarty had attempted to recreate the Nautilus for his war... Was this for a similar cause?

He felt a swaying motion and could see the contents of the bottle swishing back and forth slightly. He guessed he was still on that boat that he had fallen unconscious on. Something the size of the Nautilus wouldn't make that much noticeable movement. It was still hard to tell how long he had been there.

Lupin was moving towards Nemo's side. Untrusting of the strange man, the captain caught a glimpse as he leaned closer; Lupin held in his hand an object that glinted in the light. A blade? Nemo breathed in sharply before he could stop himself. This caused a flare of pain in his side. Nemo hissed, trying to sit up to ease it but the ropes held him down. He guessed the cause of the pain was his broken rib, or perhaps more than one, and then there was the glass.

“Keep still. The pain will ease,” Lupin said gently, putting a hand on Nemo’s shoulder. If Nemo had the energy, he’d have scoffed at such an insincere reassurance. He could feel his anger rising. Even what little he observed about the two men caused Nemo's to feel hollow and irritated with uneasiness. He wanted nothing more than to strike the men with all his might. He longed to show them their decision to capture Captain Nemo was a foolhardy one, to lash out with his blade like he would against so many opponents in the past. 

Yet that wish went unanswered. Escaping the ropes was impossible and there was no way to fight even without restraints; his injuries would defeat him before the first strike. Nemo did not care. Anger could be a much greater influence on him than logic. This was one of those times.   


He wanted out.

Nemo tried to burst out the ropes, gritting his teeth as he tensed every muscle in his body. The pain only escalated in his side. It was a sharp stabbing sensation that managed to exceed the soreness in the rest of his battered body. But he didn’t stop. He fought against the pain, the restraints, and everything that tried to stop him. He wanted to be free of such torment. If only he could get the appalling burning sensation of suffocation to subside.

The two men pinned Nemo down as he fought as best he could. Whether they feared escape or that he would do himself a further injury, he did not know.  
“Let...me...go!” he shouted. Black spots flickered in Nemo's vision, warning him that he was on the verge of unconsciousness yet again.

He had a desperate gust of strength to help him fight during his moment of panic. Yet he lasted for less than half a minute. His temper began to burn out, even if he didn't want it to. He struggled for air. As Nemo felt his struggles lessening, he noticed that Lupin’s grip was weakening.

"Steady,  _ mon ami _ . I understand, but we're trying to help. You must calm yourself," Lupin reassured as the captain lost his momentum.

Panting and groaning, he felt his strength give out and he fell back against the table. His head was swimming and his body ached in response to his struggles. He took several gulps of air. The sharp pain continued to flare for a few more moments before easing off a small amount as he grew still. Lupin kept him in place for a few seconds after, as if to be certain that he had calmed.  
"Are you finished with your tantrum?" Lupin asked. Nemo clenched his teeth and tried to snatch his arms free from the rope. 

Lupin tried once again to bring his hand towards Nemo's side. Nemo saw the flash of metal again and was tempted to fight once more, but the pain encouraged him to stay still. Little could make him feel any worse but whether they were trying to save him or not, he did not know. He did not care and he did not trust them.

"There we are, doesn’t that feel so much better? You may remember there are a few shards of glass in your arms and side. I need to remove them before they go septic. Try not to jolt again. It will be easier for both of us," Lupin said sympathetically. Nemo did not have the strength to fight again, but he still inhaled slightly as Lupin leaned in close.

Now calm, Nemo could see he held only tweezers. He wished he'd noticed before he'd caused himself so much pain. But this whole situation was nightmarish. He didn't understand why he was here. Lupin was as slow and steady as possible whilst pulling the fragments of glass out Nemo's skin with a delicate touch. The captain would have been more appreciative of the obvious care he was taking if it wasn't for the fact that the injuries came from him and his companions taking him in the first place.

"This piece of glass is far larger than I first anticipated. It will need stitches," Lupin muttered to himself as he worked.  
Zenith said nothing in reply but nodded. Nemo watched and listened as best he could, fighting back a wince.  
"I still do not understand why Fantômas had to inflict these injuries onto him in the first place. He knew the plan," Lupin scowled as he carefully wiped the wound clean with warm water.

“He probably could not control the Hyde,” Zenith said in the other monster’s defence. Nemo wasn't so convinced. He knew of Hyde's potion. Hyde was not a thoughtless monster, and neither would the other two have been. There was something about Fantômas, or rather his red counterpart, that Nemo did not like. It seemed colder, somewhat object-like in nature, more so than Edward Hyde. Nemo hoped the man behind the beast was somewhat better.

"Perhaps so,” Lupin murmured, though unconvinced. “Keep him still. I expect this part will sting a little."

Nemo's body tensed up out of instinct. What did he have in mind?  
"Cheer up, old boy. You make me feel guilty for helping you," Lupin remarked. "I'm going to have to cleanse the wounds. It should not take long, but it will not be pleasant. It would have been best if you could have remained asleep. You should try to rest. It will help."

Nemo said nothing. He turned his head away from his side with his eyes closed. He knew what Lupin meant. This was going to sting an awful lot, but it was necessary. There were numerous cuts and Nemo was no immortal, healing them away in an instant was not an option.

Exhaustion was starting to creep back upon him. He needed to rest and it would indeed be easier if he was not awake for the next part. Nemo was begging for the world of unconsciousness to take him back, to let him slip back under the waves for a little while. But whether it was his arrogance, fear or his luck that kept him from sleeping, Nemo did not know. He was cold, tired and in pain. He internally pleaded for sleep, but it seemed that it would not greet him yet.

With a sigh, Lupin took a fresh piece of cloth and poured alcohol onto it. Lupin dabbed the cloth onto the larger wounds. Nemo gritted his teeth in an attempt not to cry out, but the stinging on top of the rest of the pain was too much to bear in complete silence. He uttered a hiss as he bit his lip, weakly pulling at his bonds.

Nemo prepared to throw himself forwards despite a lack of energy. He could no more stop himself from reacting than he could stop a fish from swimming. This time Zenith was ready and kept him in place. Even though Lupin was being as quick as possible, Nemo could not help but snarl in intolerable pain.

The instant he finished with the deeper and longer cuts, Lupin took the cloth away. Nemo relaxed and heaved out a sigh of relief. The worst of it was over, but it still seared with pain. He winced, forcing back a whimper.

"You are doing well, Captain. I am almost finished. Don’t look so worried, there are only a few grazes left," Lupin praised with a soft smile. Nemo did not reply, nor did he have any intention of doing so, but it was out of exhaustion more than anything. He would have had plenty to say if he had the strength but he was weary beyond what he could imagine.

"Can I trust you to stay still whilst I sew these wounds?" Lupin asked Nemo. "I'm hardly a doctor and your struggling won't make this any easier for me to mend."  
Nemo nodded grimly. He was not sure if he would be able to stay still, but he would try.   
"Good. Zenith, can you please find me some bandages?" he continued.   
“Of course,” he said, getting up and leaving the room.

Nemo knew it would take some time to recover and regain his strength enough to even consider escaping. Slightly more concerning, he felt like there was a fever hovering above him. Within a few hours, Nemo predicted that he would be claimed by sickness and sleep for several days, if not longer. He wished that he was under the care of Jekyll instead of such a strangely considerate kidnapper. The doctor's knowledge and skills would be needed when the fever struck. He hoped Lupin's abilities would be up to the task.

Lupin took a curved needle and thread and dipped it in the alcohol.  
"Where am I and for how long was I unconscious?" Nemo croaked.  
"We're in the English Channel, that's all I can tell you. You've been asleep for about an hour.”

Nemo managed a scowl. “Who are you?”  
Lupin chuckled and said, "You don't remember me? By Jove, I'm surprised, although I suppose it was a long time ago. We had quite a chase together. I am Arsène Lupin: Gentleman Thief. I have no doubt in proposing myself to you as the greatest thief in the world."

Nemo thought for a while. "Arsène Lupin? If my mind does not cheat me, you stole one of my paintings that I had purchased in France.” His voice remained bitter.  
Nemo was able to recall that encounter, but that had been a long time ago. He could not deny that Lupin was a somewhat likeable character during the hunt. Lupin had stolen a picture he'd bought for the Nautilus just before Nemo disappeared for the majority of his life.

Lupin had mocked him and aggravated him a great deal throughout the hunt. Still, even with such a serious crime, Lupin’s playful, yet respectful, manner took some of the sting out of the theft. He was not like the others Nemo had dealt with before, violent and bitter. No, he was different somehow. He acted like he wanted Nemo to win his possession back, treating the crime as some sort of great game. Even now, Lupin treated him with consideration and calmness, but he was still a thief. In all honesty, he had forgotten the young man. But he was furious to find him involved with this. He had no choice but to direct his frustration to clenched fists.

Lupin smiled at the memory and began to sew. The conversation served as a welcome distraction for Nemo at the very least.

"I was only a boy at the time. It was one of Raphael's paintings, yes? The Madonna of the Meadow? It is a beautiful painting. You were very close to catching me several times when you searched for your painting. But I was always one step ahead."  
Nemo stopped to catch his breath. “I also assume you are the reason why there are currently no paintings left hanging on the walls of my library?" Nemo sent him a cold stare, one Lupin seemed to expect. The thief gave a mischievous smile, like that of a schoolboy.

“Of course. You’ve a refined taste in music and arts. I must admit, your gallery is-”  
“Was,” Nemo corrected coldly.  
Lupin smirked at the remark and continued “was astonishing. You couldn’t expect me to just leave it alone, did you?”  
Nemo wondered if he could find a window of opportunity for answers, a hint to get him closer to freedom. "How did you do it? How did you manage to find me, to take me?"

"I cannot tell you such secrets,  _ mon ami _ . Surely you know that but anything can be done with the correct planning and preparation. Take overcoming your League for example. As for the painting, well, that was even simpler."  
“If you have harmed any inhabitant on that ship-” Nemo began in warning.

Lupin dismissed the danger Nemo posed. “Hush, there's no need for threats. I don't kill and orders were given to reinforce that. I dare say you've had it worst.”

Nemo raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Was Lupin testing him, challenging him, trying to gather his bearings and understand him? Nemo wasn’t going to let him know how far he could push. Whether he knew him or not, he was the enemy, and he was dangerous. If the chance came, he had to get away. The best way to provide that chance for himself was to lure them into a false sense of security. He forced himself to calm, to stay civil.

He said "I’ve little choice but to believe you... But why did you return that painting before I left all those years ago?"

"I could have made you buy back your painting or sold it on. But other... business, I suppose you may say, stopped me. I couldn't store the painting safely, nor did I have the contacts that I have now. I'd won the game but could not gain my reward. I decided to return it, as a way to say  _ bon voyage _ I suppose. Yet as I said, I was young. I’m not quite as charitable these days. Stealing from you could be considered practice."

Nemo replied with a small nod. He found himself unable to muster the strength to speak. He felt nauseated; fever was taking a firm hold. Lupin, noticing what was happening, put the back of his hand onto Nemo's forehead. Considering how cool the other man's hand felt, Nemo knew he must have been burning up. He looked away.

Lupin sighed and shook his head. Then, he reached behind him and took a glass of water from the small table. "You should drink whilst you are awake. I have a feeling this fever will be a fierce one."  
Nemo hesitated. It would be foolish to ignore all the possible risks that presented themselves. But he was thirsty…

"Trust me. I have not wasted my time tending to your wounds just to poison you if that's what you think. If you want me to test it, I shall."  
"No," he managed, his small amount of remaining energy fading fast. A smile tugged at the corner of Lupin's mouth. He tentatively held Nemo's head whilst he drank. Nemo did not object. He hadn't the strength to do so. Instead, he allowed the water to slip down his throat. It was lukewarm, making it easier to drink; it quenched his thirst faster than cold water would and was gentler on his stomach.

Once Nemo had drunk his fill, Lupin helped him to lie down. He paused as the captain shivered. "Get some rest, Captain."

As tempting as it sounded, Nemo did not want to rest. He wanted answers. So even with most of his energy spent, he summoned up what strength he could to speak. "Why am I here?"   
"I cannot answer that."   
Nemo tensed his jaw, his temper warming. "You ransacked my home and threatened my crew, going as far as injuring them. I’m currently tied to a table on a hostile ship whilst you pull glass out of my body. I want an explanation for this barbarity!” Shouting hurt his ribs, making him wince and take a few steadying breaths.   
Lupin shrugged. "Of course you do, but it is not I who will give it to you. You will have to rest. When you are strong enough, you will get every answer you need."

Nemo grumbled in annoyance but settled himself. Staying calm and passive was essential in aiding any escape plan he could conjure in the future. He felt more comfortable in this new situation at least. Deciding that, for the time being, he was safe, he closed his eyes hoping sleep would finally take him back. This time it welcomed him.


	7. Voicing Concerns

**Chapter 7 - Voicing Concerns  
** **Baltimore Port, America: September 5th  
** **(Continued)**

Mina’s worries continued to grow for the captain with every tense moment that passed. She and Dr Jekyll waited on the conning tower of the Nautilus for the automobile and its occupants to arrive.

The mid-September sea air helped Mina to clear her troubled mind. As she watched the people carrying heavy cargo, some of the smells wandered up to the vessel, the strongest being coffee, spices, and oil. It was interesting to watch the people hustling about, living their normal lives. Mina missed the times when she was considered normal and lived like that. 

Though she did not make it evident to those around her, she missed her son, Quincey. He now lived in America with a friend of hers. Due to the events involving Dracula and its aftermath, she had felt it best to distance herself from him for his own safety. However her new life, despite its dangers and disadvantages, was hardly bad or regrettable. Its main disadvantage was of course not being able to keep in touch with her son.

Skinner and Ishmael had left early to get Sawyer since they were so eager to get moving. They were due back soon so the Nautilus had surfaced ready for them. The Nautilus was hidden behind the cargo ships, though It was like trying to hide an apple behind a pip due to the ship’s size. It was the best they could do for now.

There was nothing drastic to fear should they be seen thanks to Sawyer’s involvement and America’s so-called ‘interests’ with the group. Mina had the feeling it would not matter if they were on friendly terms with America or not, the Nautilus would still be waiting for its youngest passenger. Everyone wanted Sawyer and Nemo back; the ship was not the same without them.

So far nothing had changed aboard the Nautilus since after the attack. The boat was still engulfed in a bitter shroud of anguish and everyone was still at a loss. It seemed the Nautilus would not be freed from this torment until her captain was home safe.

Undoubtedly, it was the League’s lack of knowledge that concerned Mina so much. The last time she saw Nemo, he was unconscious on an enemy vessel. Those ghastly beasts had hurt him badly from what she had been able to tell. She hoped with all her might he was being cared for. She should have done more to help. She was the immortal one, she should have fought, or flew out that window carrying Nemo to safety before he could even be taken, but then, hindsight was a cruel and wonderful thing. The iron harpoon she’d been struck with had pained her for days afterwards. The blood of dolphins and seals only gradually healed her, it wasn’t as effective.

The idea that the attack had been planned to perfection was also a major concern; every last detail and potential problem the strangers could have faced had been thought of. Whoever had taken Nemo knew far more about the League than Mina would have liked: the League’s membership, their weaknesses, the layout of the Nautilus and exactly how to overthrow them.

It was only recently Nemo had allowed the world to know about his existence and even then he stayed deep within the shadows. How could the attackers have learned their way around so well? It was impossible for someone to know so much about the Nautilus without seeing the ship for themselves... wasn’t it?

The more Mina thought about the attack, the less she felt she knew, but she did know she could depend on Ishmael and his crew to find any abnormalities. If anything was out of place; if there was in fact an intruder or something of the like, then they would know. It was a reassuring thought.

An incident had happened several months beforehand. Mina had identified a powder Ishmael and Nemo found as magnesium phosphorus, a chemical used to make a camera flash, on the ship’s bridge. She confirmed that someone onboard was untrue. That someone had been Dorian Gray.

Dorian Gray had shot Ishmael in Venice, as he and Moriarty made their escape from the Nautilus to find James Moriarty in Mongolia. It was a miracle, or rather Dr Jekyll, that he actually survived the three bullets that hit him, even if two had been minor flesh wounds. Ishmael told Captain Nemo of Gray’s betrayal before falling unconscious for some time. It took a great deal of time and care to get him back to full health; Nemo rarely left his bedside during that time. Ishmael was still not fully healed, and she often feared he was overworking himself. He was overdoing it even more now Nemo was missing.

Mina found herself holding onto the railing tighter. All Ishmael had ever been was loyal to the captain and he continued to be even now. Nothing, not even death, could move him but what had happened was unfair to him. Nemo was lucky to have such a man for his First Mate.  _ Loyalty like that is hard to come by these days,  _ she thought to herself. But now Ishmael was forced to suffer again. Ishmael needed his captain back. His worry was starting to overwhelm him. If only she knew if Nemo was-   


"Mrs Harker, are you alright?" Dr Jekyll asked. She forgot that he was stood beside her.   
"Yes, thank you. I just wish to be doing something more than waiting."   
Jekyll put his hands behind his back and turned to face her with a soft smile of reassurance. Jekyll was the only one who was acting more or less the same, although Mina suspected he was trying to put on a brave face. That’s what a gentleman supposedly had to do after all. She’d heard him shouting in hallways when he thought he was alone. Hyde was still furious at what had happened and it provided an almost constant mental strain that Jekyll had to endure.

"As do I,” Jekyll said. “To even know how he's faring would be appreciated. Although, I suppose we must try to stay optimistic about this whole affair. Nemo is no fool, I am sure he will be able to look after himself until we get to him. Hopefully, when Sawyer returns we can begin to be a little more practical with this whole situation."   
Mina smiled at Jekyll’s optimism; it was unusual for him to be so hopeful and unrealistic, but all the same, it was welcome.

Jekyll and Hyde had come to like the captain since they joined the League. Mina almost pitied anyone that Hyde happened to find who was involved with Nemo’s disappearance. "I expected them to have returned by now," she wondered out loud, looking out to the port again.   
"I am sure they are on their way. Sawyer will have been some miles away from this port with his work," Jekyll replied.   
"I suppose... Still, I feel rather uneasy about all of this."

Jekyll smiled once more, trying to gather up an air of confidence as he spoke, "I’m sure everything will be fine. The League may be a few shy before the deck but that doesn’t mean we cannot find Nemo. With Sawyer’s help and contacts, we should be able to move along with this mystery. I suppose we'll have to try to have some patience-"

As the doctor spoke, the Automobile finally appeared. Mina exchanged an anxious glance with the doctor, before hurrying down from the conning tower to see their young spy. The wait to take action was over.

Mina knew Dr Jekyll did not fully understand what she had meant. She felt uneasy about everything, not only finding Nemo. No one should have known Nemo existed, let alone the entire League. Whoever these men were, they had done their research and had access to such information. She wondered if something bigger was at play, something far more dangerous. She didn’t like it, she didn’t like it at all...

* * *

**(*Meanwhile*)**

Sawyer climbed out of the Automobile and stretched his legs. His headache had dispersed but now he was aching from sitting for so long. This, however, he could live with. Skinner also climbed out, giving Sawyer a brief nod.  
"It is good to see you again, Sawyer," Jekyll greeted as he came over, offering his hand out for a welcoming handshake, "although I wish the circumstances were less dire."  
Sawyer accepted the handshake and smiled. "It’s good to see you all again too."

Mina walked forwards, making her presence known to the spy. Her assertive aura alone gave her a sense of dominance in the group. Sawyer smiled and bowed his head to her, Mina did the same. 

"I assume you received my letter?" she said after a moment.   
"Yes, just before Skinner almost got himself shot," he replied, turning his head to look at the thief. He was leaning against the automobile whilst Sawyer talked. "The floor is a strange place to keep your guns, Sawyer," Skinner chuckled to himself.

Sawyer shot him a glance and returned to his conversation. "Perhaps we should go inside and discuss these matters in a more private place," Jekyll suggested, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting an ambush or prying eyes.

Though Sawyer didn't know the details of the fight, he could see Jekyll looked like he had taken a beating. Some of the bruises were still pale on his face. The others nodded in agreement with Jekyll’s suggestion and began their very short walk back to the ship. Sawyer held back for a moment and signalled for the others to continue. 

"Ishmael, are you coming?" he asked.   
Ishmael hesitantly nodded. "Aye, sir, Do you mind if I park the Automobile first?"   
"Course not, Ishmael. Meet us in the library when you’re ready," Sawyer smiled sympathetically.

He guessed that Ishmael was trying to stall so Sawyer decided not to apply too much pressure to him. Ishmael would speak, he had to convince himself it was the right thing to do first. Sawyer could not help but worry for the first mate. Nemo had been missing for less than a week and Ishmael already looked ill. It couldn’t continue.

"Ishmael… How are you, honestly?" he asked after a small silence.   
"I’m... fine, thank you, sir. I just haven’t quite been feeling myself recently. What with the worry and all," he explained. Of course, Sawyer understood that much. Ishmael and Nemo were great friends, almost brothers.

It was clear to Sawyer that Nemo would do anything for his crew, be them new or old but Ishmael seemed to be closest to the captain. Sawyer couldn’t help but wonder how they’d met. It seemed Sawyer would be needed more than expected onboard. He assigned himself the task of keeping an eye on Ishmael until the captain was back. Sawyer knew how it felt to lose your closest friend; there was no way he would let Ishmael or Nemo end up like that.   


"We will find him, Ishmael. I can promise you that," Sawyer said confidently. “I won't stop until we do.”   
He nodded. "I know, Mr Sawyer, thank you." However, he did not look filled with confidence. Sawyer smiled, trying to appear convinced himself.

Sawyer turned back to the Nautilus. Jekyll, Mina and Skinner were all waiting for him a fair distance away. Sawyer sighed, gently slapping the first mate’s arm in a friendly dismissal, and headed over to the three. Ishmael climbed back into the automobile and drove off to the side of the Nautilus.

"Are you ready, Sawyer?" Skinner asked.  
"Yes, I was just... checking on Ishmael."   
"So you also have your eye on him?" Jekyll observed.   
"It’s impossible to not notice," he frowned. Ishmael was in a worse state than they thought if everyone was able to notice his uncharacteristic change in behaviour. Usually, he was able to hide his emotions, he didn't let things affect him, but this was too much.

Sawyer knew Ishmael was trying his best, but there was nothing that could be said to comfort him. Ishmael would only settle if he was able to speak with the captain and know firsthand that he was alright.

"Come, let us go," Mina said before a sorrowful silence could fall upon them. Sawyer nodded, this was going to be grim. Everyone was looking to Sawyer to find a lead on this case. Sawyer hoped he could find one. He couldn’t let them down again, not whilst so much hung in the balance.


	8. Shrouded Ghosts

**Chapter 8 - Shrouded Ghosts  
** _**The** _ **_Nautilus_ ** **(Baltimore Port), America  
** **(Continued)**

Sawyer had seen some strange things in his life; in the last few weeks alone he'd seen giant submarines, vampires, monsters, and even immortals. Still, what he now saw had to be a first. The attack had made the interior of the Nautilus look like it was made of tin. It was something Sawyer didn’t think was possible. Nemo’s men were busy mending the walls of the ship where the monster had dented them, but the damage was still visible in places where work had not started.

The corridor had several hallways that branched out from the main path. The metal walls had been dented and torn. At places where an explosion had been, the nuts and bolts had been ripped off, leaving the sheets of metal blocking some doorways, so one had to duck and squeeze to get through. The men were working to get them all replaced. Mending the engines had taken priority since the attack. Sawyer made a mental note to help them clean up later. He liked working with Nemo’s men; all of them were good to talk to. He enjoyed the company.

"I know you said those things did a lot of damage, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad," Sawyer remarked half-heartedly. The atmosphere was so heavy and embittered due to recent events. Sawyer hoped he could break the ice, even if only a little.  
"This is nothing compared to the engine room, whoever decided to pay us a visit didn’t want us following anytime soon. They set off a bomb," Skinner replied. "We’re lucky we didn’t go down."

As Sawyer examined the corridors, he tried to picture the beast charging through and smashing up the ship. The monster must have been quite a size to inflict so much damage. It was unnerving how much power a man was capable of harnessing with a few vials of a formula.

Sawyer’s blood boiled at the thought of Nemo being the target of such a horrific attack. Why? Why Nemo of all people? A logical suggestion came to Sawyer quickly: his science. Nemo was without a doubt one of the cleverest men alive. No engineer Sawyer knew in the Secret Service even came close to the captain. From what Sawyer knew alone, Nemo could speak French, Latin, English, and German- perhaps even more. He alone had created the world’s first submarine and automobile; he had kept this ship safe for decades whilst remaining untraced and was a master of mathematics, science, and engineering. Nemo’s skills in combat were rarely challenged, he moved as smoothly as his hands across his beloved organ. With or without a sword in his hand, Nemo was a force to be reckoned with.

What Sawyer could never get over was that this was the tip of the iceberg. Nemo was far more important than just being a mode of transportation and supply of men like many would have cancelled him down into being.

But why was such barbarism needed in his capture and why was he taken now of all times? From what Skinner had told him, he had lost his sword early in the fight and hand to hand combat would not have gotten Nemo very far. That meant violence wasn’t necessary. So why did that one monster have to almost kill him? Was it in the monster’s nature or part of some twisted plan?

Sawyer kept these unanswerable questions to the back of his mind to answer later. He would learn soon enough, no doubt. There was not much to decipher in this scene. The walls were so gnawed and damaged he didn’t know what to make of it. He had no knowledge of hunting and tracking things to make sense of something that way. Sawyer wished Quatermain was here to help. He would have been able to make some sense of all this. However, his wish went unanswered. He would have to rely on himself and what remained of the League to solve this mystery.

He turned his attention to the double doors that lead to the library. He wondered what carnage would be inside. So far Sawyer had come up with no leads whatsoever; It concerned him. What if he was to fail the captain? No, he would find something, even if it was something small. It was still early days; he had to try to remain optimistic about this for everyone’s sake.

The metal doors were watertight, designed to link together and make a strong seal- a safety measure should the observation window give way underwater for whatever reason. However, unlike the rest, the Indian God, Ganesha, stuck out of the doors. The carving was then surrounded with small Indian patterns, like what was on the exterior of the Nautilus. Mina had once mentioned to him who the elephant-like God was before, he was the God of wisdom and new beginnings.

Nemo obviously loved the library if he was able to put so much effort into making some doors. Sawyer knew exactly what was engraved beneath Ganesha:

_Mobilis in Mobili._

Sawyer’s Latin wasn’t the best but Jekyll had roughly translated it for him. It meant "moving amidst mobility", "moving within the moving element", or "changing in the changes", either one suited the Nautilus in Sawyer’s opinion. He stopped abruptly and his brow furrowed. The doors had been undamaged. How on Earth had the doors survived the attack after all the damage that had been caused elsewhere?

"I’ll take it that the doors have been replaced?" he assumed.  
"Why, no… In fact, we haven't touched them," Jekyll answered, also catching onto the strange fact.  
Sawyer was taken aback. He pointed to the dented walls and then the doors. "Then… why? Why would you cut off all that momentum and power to just open some doors, especially when you’re capable of all this?"

"It is very peculiar… The main idea running through such a monster's mind is destruction, so I don’t see why it was left unscathed either," Jekyll explained, almost as puzzled as Sawyer. Jekyll was most likely to come up with an explanation for this strange incident. He knew how the formula worked more than anyone. Sawyer left that question for him to solve for now.

Initially, Sawyer had seen Hyde as a big monkey- a very dangerous monkey that almost killed him once or twice, had it not been for Quatermain. As time passed, his opinion had changed, although not quite as much as he wished. He now knew that Hyde was willing to spare the crew and League, as long as he was ‘allowed out’ so to speak. Hyde seemed to prefer a challenge than squishing harmless little ants with next to no effort. He hoped he stayed that way.

Whoever took Nemo would not be getting away with this. There were ways to take Nemo if they saw it to be essential and not for someone’s personal desires. Almost killing him did not fit into that category. That was unnecessary cruelty, and Sawyer was not going to let it stand. He shook his head. He had to stay focused.

"I'm going to need to know what happened here with as much detail as possible. No assumptions, just the facts," Sawyer replied, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. Skinner scratched his head, not sure where to begin. The rather blank expressions of Mina and Jekyll’s face carried the same answer.

"Is it really that important?" Skinner thought out loud, not actually expecting a reply.  
"There’s more to this than you think, Skinner. We need to find out as much as we can about these people. Don’t try to tell me that leaving the door alone isn’t odd."  
"Well, yes but that thing could barely fit through that doorway-"  
"All the more reason to charge through," Sawyer insisted.

Jekyll cleared his throat. "We are trying to solve a puzzle without letting people see the puzzle pieces in our hands. We all saw something different that night. Sawyer is right. We should all say what we have witnessed and work together to come up with an accurate story. A solution might just emerge."

Everyone knew what Jekyll was implying: putting unnecessary pressure onto Sawyer was hardly fair. Sawyer’s line of work could only help the League so much. He was an agent- not a detective. It would take all of the League to solve this mystery.

Sawyer and Skinner looked at each other, agreeing. The tension and worry of everyone onboard was still hanging in the air. Even though the two had not actually been arguing, it was tiny, insignificant confrontations like this that would be happening frequently until Nemo was returned. Jekyll feared that these confrontations would grow; if the situation happened to get any more stressful and it was very likely to do so. More conflicts were something they could ill afford. 

"Mr Sawyer, Sir?" Ishmael inquired from a few feet away.  
"Yes, Ishmael. I’ll be with you in a moment," Sawyer smiled, turning to face him.  
"Aye, Sir."

Jekyll snapped out of his thoughts as Sawyer replied, "Ishmael has something to show me and then we’ll have to put our heads together. I won’t take too long. Please, uh, excuse me a minute." Sawyer dipped his head and went over to Ishmael. Jekyll, Mina, and Skinner exchanged confused glances but did not follow. With the way Sawyer spoke, it was clear this was a private matter. Instead, they went into the library and began to think of what they would tell him.

"Ready?" Sawyer asked.  
"Aye sir, right this way." Sawyer followed Ishmael without a word. They seemed to be heading towards the crew men's rooms. He drew deep breaths of the clean air he had come to recognise as he walked, familiarising himself with his second home once again. The Nautilus, the League, he had missed it all so much, despite the sorrow now encased within.

“Where are we going, Ishmael?”  
“The Captain’s quarters, sir. It will be easier for me to show you rather than explain.” In all honesty, going to Nemo’s room surprised Sawyer. This matter did seem to be very private if it was hidden away as it was. The fact Ishmael was reluctant to share this information definitely made it seem to be a matter that only Ishmael and Nemo knew about.

Ishmael opened a plain door on his left. He clearly did not want to be intruding on the captain’s privacy, but both Ishmael and Sawyer knew it was necessary. Sawyer had never thought about what Nemo’s room would look like, but if he were to guess, that mask of self - pride that Nemo wore so skillfully would have gotten the better of him.

Inside Nemo’s room, there was a small bed tucked away in the corner of the room. It was clear that sleep was not something he held in high regard. His ship, however, was. The walls of his room were almost identical to that of the bridge, with working copies of the instruments placed on the main wall. Sawyer also noted a telegraph in the corner. It meant Nemo could keep an eye on his ship without being present.

Not far from the bed, there was a small wooden chest, a set of drawers and a wardrobe, all a matching set. They seemed to be very old, and not produced by the sea. They looked to be of French design, which surprised Sawyer. Perhaps Nemo had not cut every tie between him and the surface world after all. Maybe some precious memories had been preserved from his mysterious past.

Despite all the Nautilus’ splendour and wealth, Nemo did not treat himself as royalty like it was so easy to do. His room was in a lesser state than Sawyer’s. Nemo kept it clean and everything was well organised, but it was not special. It didn’t surprise Sawyer in the slightest now that he actually thought about it. Nemo’s priority was his crew and the welfare of the ship, his own needs acted more like a burden. He didn't spend time resting in his room.

This was the Nemo that Sawyer knew and admired. The man who dreamed and achieved the impossible. The Nautilus was Nemo’s life; neither could live without the other. It made Sawyer all the more determined to return their captain.

Sawyer’s attention returned to Ishmael. He had crouched down beside the wooden chest. His eyes were filled with a strange sorrow, as though he was pained by what he was doing. Sawyer turned his head away as Ishmael moved the numbers on the lock to the right code and lifted the lid. It creaked as if in protest at being opened by someone other than it’s master. The fact Ishmael knew the code made Sawyer raise an eyebrow. Nemo really did trust Ishmael with everything.

A thought struck Sawyer: did anyone else know the code? Then again, if someone had enough time they could figure out the code without help. They would have to have skill at picking locks. It occurred to Sawyer that the odds were not in Skinner’s favour. But he believed him.

Ishmael looked around for an object inside the chest. He retrieved a simple leather-bound book. The book looked like it had been looked after with great care. It was not something Sawyer imagined the captain possessing. What was in this book that was so important to Nemo to cause such an infuriated reaction to come from him?

Sawyer crouched down beside Ishmael to get a closer look at it. Was this where the answer lay?  
"Is this what was stolen?" he asked, as Ishmael handed it to him with the utmost care.  
"Aye, sir. It never leaves this room so for someone to have stolen it was the only option. We found it again just outside the bridge after the captain asked Mr Skinner about it," Ishmael explained.

Sawyer knew what Ishmael was implying. He thought Skinner was responsible for the temporary theft and that, having seen Nemo’s reaction, Skinner had placed it where Nemo would find it again. Still, Sawyer disagreed. Skinner had been accused once before and was in fact not guilty. His cunning ability and overall sneakiness caused almost everyone to never fully trust Skinner. His curiosity could often get the better of him but he doubted Skinner would go so far. Besides, even if it was him, he would have admitted to it; he wouldn’t lie about something so serious.

Staring at the book with interest, Sawyer could tell just how well Nemo cared for this book. The pages had not been plagued with mould and damp like it was so easy to do. The leather itself was in sublime condition as was the paper inside.

"What is in the book that’s so important, Ishmael? Why would anyone want to take it?" he continued. Sawyer did not look inside it, he guessed that even knowing of its existence was a great invasion of privacy. Still, Sawyer wanted answers; he was itching with curiosity but for the meanwhile, he could hold.

Ishmael took a long while to reply, trying to find the right words from what Sawyer could tell. "I don't know why someone would want it. This book is the captain’s... last memories of the world above him. I assume you know why Nemo left the surface world in the first place?”

Sawyer wracked his brain for anything he knew. He was surprised and disappointed at himself for the lack of knowledge he actually possessed about Nemo.  
"I… Not really," Sawyer admitted.  
Ishmael drew a measured breath. "Captain Nemo’s family was murdered… he is the last of his bloodline. This belonged to his daughter, Janni." Ishmael’s face darkened with grief, thinking of something that disturbed him.

Sawyer was stunned. He swallowed back his alarm and horror of hearing such an answer. "I see… That explains its importance, but why would someone go through the trouble of unlocking the chest in the first place?" Sawyer continued, more to himself. He knew he was walking all over a very tender area for Ishmael. He couldn’t push too hard if it could be avoided. "I don’t know, Mr Sawyer. I really don’t know."

Sawyer allowed the news to sink in. This book, there had to be something to it that had sparked some interest to someone. If Skinner did not take it, then there was a high possibility that the intruder had searched for this book. But why?

"Is… anything of value written inside?" Sawyer wondered.  
"Well, no, not to any other man. It was just things that Janni drew, pictures and the like. She had her parents’ talent for drawing, poor lass."  
“She didn't draw anything that someone could want, nothing like that?”

Ishmael shook his head. “I only ever saw her draw patterns, maybe a scene, but she was too young for anything too complex… some of her drawings Nemo was able to add to the Nautilus’ design.” A smile weakly appeared on Ishmael’s face before fading away again. “We were sure to keep her from knowing anything that would have put her in harm's way…”

Sawyer furrowed his brow. “We?” He wanted to stop questioning him. He could see the sadness he was drawing up to the surface. It was unfair on the first mate. Despite that, he had to continue- he needed answers and there was no other way for the meanwhile.   
Ishmael cleared his throat. “I was there, a few others as well… I’d rather leave it at that, sir. It is still too painful.”

Despite the blankness in his mind, one theory that Sawyer thought of would not go away no matter how much he tried to reject the idea. He had seen his fair share of this sort of thing and whether he liked it or not, Sawyer couldn’t deny it ticked all the boxes. "Ishmael, when Nemo chose to stay hidden on the Nautilus, was there anyone he left behind? Any enemies at all?"

"No, the one bastard we had trouble with was killed. Nemo saw to that. Why do you ask?  
"Just… Something like this could have been used to send a message, I guess."

Ishmael straightened his back "I'm not sure if I follow, Mr Sawyer."

"I mean it could be a sort of threat, I suppose, but it's only an idea. Anyone could have taken it, but with something so personal and private as this… well, it could be someone closer than we think. I mean it seems strange that a few hours later you were attacked. I was wondering if there was someone like that to give us a hint about who’s responsible for all this. With no one knowing about Nemo’s daughter, there’s no way for them to know the book’s value to Nemo. I think this is more important than Skinner pickpocketing and wandering about."

Ishmael and Sawyer were silent for a while. Sawyer watched as Ishmael’s face darkened. "If it is a message, it could only come from one man. But, as I told you, he is dead. I don’t know what to think anymore, Mr Sawyer. I really don’t..."  
"Don’t worry, Ishmael, we’re making progress, that’s all we can ask for the time being. Maybe we should go back to the rest of the League and we’ll piece things together there." 

Ishmael nodded and took the book back, returning it to its rightful place with the utmost care. He seemed reluctant to take his hand off the leather cover. Despite his words of motivation, Sawyer felt he was no further forward with this case than when he just stepped out of the automobile. It was disheartening to say the least. He felt they were close, and yet so far away.

Sawyer and Ishmael left Nemo’s room. Other than the metal clanking beneath their feet as they walked and muffled voices at the end of the corridors there was no noise. Sawyer wanted to ask Ishmael more questions as they walked, but he knew the conversation they had was meant to remain unheard. If Ishmael could help it he would not have spoken a word of it in the first place.

"Thank you, Ishmael; it could still be important information. I won’t mention a word of this to anyone," Sawyer smiled as the two came up to the library.  
"Thank you, Mr Sawyer. I appreciate it. But if you feel you need to return to that room you may... Would you like for me to come with you to the library?"  
"If you can, Ishmael. You still might know something that no one else does."

Upon arriving at the library, Sawyer found everyone to be waiting. Mina and Jekyll had sat down on padded fabric seats with a cup of tea. Skinner was on the second floor. He’d left his hat downstairs whilst he looked around. Maybe Skinner was onto something, after all, he had mentioned it in the Automobile.

"Is everything alright?" Mina asked Sawyer.  
"Yes, hopefully, we can figure this out now," he replied.

If Nemo had seen his beloved library in this state, Sawyer could only imagine his reaction. Barely anything was left intact in the massive room: bookcases were upturned and smashed to pieces, the books they once held were in no better of a condition. Nemo’s organ had not been spared from the fight; it too lay destroyed. That annoyed Sawyer the most, playing the organ was one of Nemo's favourite things to do. At least the second floor was undamaged, save for the absence of all the expensive-looking artwork. That in itself was very strange.

“Skinner, are you coming down? We need to sort this out," Sawyer called, pushing himself away from his anger. He had learned long ago getting annoyed helped no one.  
"In a minute, just start without me. I’m seeing if that crafty swine left anything."  
Sawyer was about to nod until the reality of what Skinner had said registered in his head. "Wait, what are you talking about?"  
"There was a third man up here for a while. He might have left something behind. I forgot to look."

Sawyer nodded and took a seat beside Jekyll whilst Ishmael remained standing close to Sawyer. His hands perched on his vest, as was his custom.

One by one, Sawyer gained each League member’s knowledge of what happened. He listened to what each of them had to say, encouraging them with occasional questions. It was obvious that he had a bit of practice at this sort of thing. He struggled not to react at hearing the pain all of the League had gone through, especially Mina. She hadn’t been able to keep her injury from him despite her clear attempts. Skinner told his story from up on the second floor, he was looking between the odd book and occasionally flicking through the pages to make sure no clues had been left.

The repaired observation window caught Sawyer’s eye, reminding him of something. "They escaped through that window, didn’t they?" he asked.  
"Yes, there was a boat waiting for them when they arrived," replied Jekyll.  
“Was there anything different about it, or even a name? Anything we could go on?" Sawyer asked.

"Well," Jekyll began. "It wasn’t like a normal wooden boat. It was covered in metal sheeting. Hyde didn’t get very close and can’t recall much-"  
"I think there was a flag," Mina stated quietly.  
"There was?" Sawyer asked. Hope and excitement flooding into his eyes. He leaned forward. This could be the one clue they needed.  
Mina nodded."Yes, I remember it now. It was not the flag of a nation- more like an individual."

"Can you describe or draw it?"  
“She doesn’t have to," Skinner called out. “I think I have it. Looks like our little friends want a hunt after all. They left this on the Madonna of the Meadow. It was the only picture they left behind- even if they did leave it in the corner."  
“The Madonna...” Ishmael murmured.

Sawyer didn't have time to question it. Skinner sped down the stairs and over to where the League was sat. They stared at him in bewilderment and amazement. Unrolling the rag, he laid it on the small table in front of them, a triumphant grin on his face.  
"Yes, yes, that was it," Mina confirmed.

Ishmael took several steps back in alarm, stammering inaudible sentences as he did. Sawyer turned in his chair to look at him. He was wild-eyed and grey-faced.  
"Ishmael?" he said, seeing the horror that had carved its way into him.

Ishmael held onto the back of Sawyer’s chair to steady himself. His other hand covered his mouth. He swallowed hard. "N. no… Not that. It. It can’t be! Anyone but him. It’s impossible- there has to be a mistake! He was killed, he can’t..." Ishmael looked as though he had seen a ghost, and judging from how he acted, Sawyer realised he quite literally had.

Jekyll jumped up from his seat and guided Ishmael into his chair, noticing a slight tremble in his legs. Ishmael never broke eye contact with the rag for a split second. Sawyer got up and crouched down in front of Ishmael, blocking his view from the flag and ultimately gaining his attention. Jekyll stayed standing, watching over the first mate, ready to take further action. Sawyer looked Ishmael in the eye, settling him down enough with his calm attitude for him to ask questions.

"Easy, Ishmael… Who does it belong to?" he asked gently. He summoned all his confidence and calmness into his voice. He needed a straightforward answer as soon as possible. He hoped that he could inspire Ishmael with some courage. He had never acted like this before.

Sawyer recognised the flag, it was in the one he had seen in the booklet at the Secret Service before Skinner came. The golden sun and stars on a black background. For the first time ever, Sawyer wished he had done the paperwork. He internally groaned, knowing he would have to return to his office to get the information- and the scolding of a lifetime.

The first mate did not answer the question.  
"We really need to know so we can help Nemo. Who does this belong to?" Sawyer said, picking up the rag and holding it up to Ishmael. “Trust me, Ishmael. Come on.”  
Swallowing hard, Ishmael was able to summon an answer. “It belonged to Robur. Robur the Conqueror, they called him. He was a madman and a murderer. Whoever is hiding behind his name... they will kill Nemo.”  
  
Sawyer paused as facts linked into place. Had Robur killed Nemo's family? “Is this the man you mentioned before? The one you thought was dead?”  
“He _is_ dead. But yes. He is the one.”  
“Can you think of anyone who may have taken over from him?”  
Ishmael pulled a face, pondering the possibility. “No… I knew little of him, though he was married, he had no children that I know of. Perhaps his crew or even her...”

“Skinner, you said the Madonna of the Meadow was the only painting left alone?”  
“Yes. It was tucked away to the side, not that hard to find.”  
Sawyer looked back at Ishmael “Does that mean anything to you?”  
“When we first bought it, it was stolen by a young French lad. But that had nothing to do with Robur. I really don't understand any of this, Mr Sawyer. None of this makes any sense.”

If Ishmael was acting like this over the threat of a ghost, Sawyer couldn't help but worry for Nemo. How would he react to knowing this? Ishmael looked like he was going to be sick and yet seemed furious. Just what had this… Robur been capable of? How did his name emerge now of all times? There were so many questions that flooded his mind. Sawyer intended to find out the answer to every last one. 

“Alright,” he murmured, patting Ishmael’s arm and standing up. “Try not to worry. We'll get to the bottom of this. Jekyll, can you keep an eye on him? I need to get back to the Secret Service, there’s a case file about that flag on my desk. I think we’re onto something.” He held the flag tight in his hand. Ishmael resumed staring at it like it was ready to bite him with venomous jaws. Jekyll nodded without a word, sparing a nervous glance towards the rag. Sawyer put it in his pocket to keep it safe.

"Does this mean we get to see who won the bet?" Skinner asked, knowing what to expect for Sawyer when he got there.  
"Yes, we’ll end up bumping into Mr White, but this is more important."  
Skinner picked up his hat. “Well, best not waste time,” he answered.  
Sawyer stood and left the room with Skinner as Jekyll and Mina helped to steady the first mate.

A strong determination filled inside the spy, he knew what to expect when he got back and he wouldn’t be able to prevent it. It didn’t matter to him, nothing was going to stand in his way of finding Nemo, it would take more than Mr White’s screaming to keep him away. Sawyer knew one thing, whoever took Nemo was going to pay.


	9. A Change of Plans

**Chapter 9 - A Change of Plans  
** **Calais, France: August 31st**

The night seemed hushed as Lupin looked out onto the dock. The flickering stars were hidden in a thick veil of grey clouds and the moon had slinked away. The darkness was perfect for concealing the task at hand. There was no one in sight; the men working the fishing boats in this peaceful little village were either in their homes, or asleep in their trusty boats.

Lupin stood, wondering about the simple life of fishermen. He had tried to live the simple life several times- although not as a fisherman of course. His stomach could not hold out through a bad storm on a feeble vessel like that, and he felt it was quite a lonely occupation. Lupin had instead bought a series of farmhouses on several occasions, to settle down with a lover and try to leave his miraculous and exciting life behind.

However, tragedy would strike when he was finally willing to give up his occupation. His losses were the reason he had joined the Mysterious Men in the first place. He was trying to do good and leave the days of stealing behind. Lupin shuddered as stinging cold memories came into mind. He desperately tried to change his trail of thought, though the result was no better.

Even though he had joined this mission, Lupin could not help but feel that this work was anything but for the good he intended for it to be. Taking Nemo was unjust and cruel, and now, the captain was fighting for his life. Lupin knew he wouldn’t be able to release Nemo and return him home yet. But he could no longer stay with the original plan that had been meticulously crafted either- all because Fantômas couldn't control his Hyde and let him hurt Nemo. It had ruined the original plan.

_ I'll have to change our course of action. First things first, Nemo needs a doctor. But, where could I conceal him until he is able to safely travel? Ah, of course, my dear Victoire! Her home is nearby and it will not take long for me to take him there. It is far from ideal, but it is the best option for the time being. I can contact the Albatross when I get there. _

Drawing one last breath of the cool crisp air, Lupin headed back inside. The boat was quite large compared to the little fishing boats. It had several rooms, some were used for sleeping, and others were for where the company on board would discuss plans and eat. As he was in command of this mission, Lupin got a room to himself, so did Nemo, however, Zenith and Fantômas did not. They weren’t very happy about it, but they didn’t voice their discontent.

Ears pricked, eyes sharp, Lupin headed down to Nemo’s room. It was a habit he had no intention of breaking. As he looked and listened he found everything to be perfectly still, tranquil even.

Lupin unlocked the door and slipped inside, returning to Nemo’s side. The captain’s small room had been completely stripped, containing nothing but an occupied bed. Nemo had to sleep sitting up due to his broken rib. There was no window. It didn’t matter since he was always resting. Upon placing a hand onto his damp forehead, Lupin could tell his health was continuing to decline. They had to leave at once. He headed towards the door to find Zenith and Fantômas.

However, with the ears of a fox, Lupin could hear Nemo shuffling and wheezing, he was beginning to wake up. He began to cough.   
"Steady,  _ mon ami _ , don't overdo. Take your time," he advised, sitting down beside him. Lupin watched as his chest rose and fell unhealthily whilst he struggled to stay awake.

"Water..."

Lupin was surprised to hear him ask for anything. He had been stubborn in his time here and refused to cooperate or ask for help. It wasn't a good sign.  _ You need something for the pain, _ Lupin thought to himself, helping the captain to sit up further and holding a cup to his lips. Nemo got hold of the cup with one hand, but Lupin didn’t let go. Nemo’s other hand fell upon his chest as his broken rib made its presence known. “Carefully does it,” Lupin advised.

Nemo paused after the first tiny sip. The water was clouded; he realised something had been put in it. "Drink," Lupin urged, hoping Nemo would do as he asked. Nemo shook his head and tried to lie back down but Lupin would not let him. "Captain, you must. You will find it much easier."  
Again, Nemo refused but Lupin would not yield either. Nemo had to drink the water.

"Nemo," he insisted.  
"I will not."  
"And yet you must. Come, you are making yourself worse."  
"No."  
"Nemo, drink."

Nemo thought for a long while. Likely wondering what drug was in the cup? What would it do? But most importantly, could Nemo trust Lupin with such a thing? Lupin was about to find out.  
"What… what is it for?"  
"It will lessen the pain- nothing more," Lupin answered.  
"And make me drowsy, no doubt," Nemo grumbled.  
"You have been unconscious for the majority of your time here, drowsiness is not something you should be concerned about. We will be moving you to our next destination within the next hour and it will be far less painful. Besides, you said you were thirsty, so drink whilst you are offered it. There’s no need to make a fuss."

Nemo looked at Lupin, analysing his face.   
“Please,” Lupin said a little kinder than what he said before. Grumbling once more, Nemo moved towards the cup again. He knew that either way, unconscious or not, Lupin would get this into his system. "Thank you," Lupin said, "It is for your benefit after all."  
"Hardly," Nemo muttered as he paused to take a breath as he drank. 

Nemo closed his eyes. He did not want to appear weak, answering every order like a dog. Even though he was desperate for the pain to lessen, he could not afford to have his senses dulled further.

Lupin put the cup back on the table and helped Nemo to settle back down. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must make preparations for tonight. You should-" Lupin paused upon hearing a strange sound. Nemo was already dozing off. "Sleep," he sighed, forcing an almost uncontrollable feeling of guilt to the back of his mind. He left the room to find his companions.

Lupin found Zenith and Fantômas speaking to each other next door. They stopped their conversation and turned to look at him. Zenith was sitting comfortably in a chair tapping his long dainty fingers against the armrest. In his other hand he held a cigarette. His ebony stick was leaning against his seat. Lupin very rarely saw him without it. He carried himself with a somewhat elegant bearing.

Fantômas stood facing him, still wearing those horrible black clothes that covered all of his face and body. It hid any signs of emotion, and Lupin was not fond of it. He depended on looking at people’s reactions. But even if it did not reassure him, Lupin still trusted him.

Once Lupin had considered himself to be the master of disguise. After meeting Fantômas, Lupin felt some of his disguises were rather weak. No one knew what Fantômas looked like- not even the police. Although that didn’t surprise him that much considering how gullible people could prove to be. Fat, thin, young, old, Fantômas could become anyone, act like anyone, deceive anyone.

Yes, Lupin could not withhold the fact Fantômas was his better- though not by much. The black garb he wore was just his classical outfit, like how Lupin was often imagined in a suit and top hat. But Fantômas had kept himself hidden for decades and he likely had no intention of changing now.

Lupin began with a deep breath "Messieurs, I’m afraid our plan will have to be adapted somewhat. Nemo needs to be treated immediately for his injuries. I know a place where we can go. I suggest that Fantômas stays aboard the Swallow so you can heal and stay with your men while you ensure the ship arrives at Belgium safely. Monsieur Zenith will have to come with me. Get ready, we must depart at once." Lupin left with Zenith following behind.

The two made hasty but carefully planned arrangements to move Nemo. It was agreed that he would have to be carried out on a stretcher and put on the backseat. Lupin would drive. Of course, this was no ordinary transportation. This transportation once belonged to Captain Nemo himself. The machine was what Nemo called an ‘Automobile’. 

This particular invention had been left behind in Venice as the League had tried to stop Moriarty. The automobile had been repaired, painted black for better concealment and renamed a 'Car', as it was quite like half a carriage. Nonetheless, Lupin really liked the machine; it was quite a beautiful creation.

Zenith seemed quite excited about the opportunity to be in such a machine. Lupin expected nothing else from him, as it was a chance to escape his usual ennui.

After several quick minutes, Lupin went back into his own room to pack his things. He rubbed his eye as he realised just how tired he was. Lupin had been staying up with the captain to keep an eye on his health for every night he had been here. It was taking its toll. His arm throbbed from the mark Nemo had left, although Fantômas had treated it for him, cleaning and stitching it. It had felt better after that, but it was still sore.

No more than ten minutes had passed when Zenith knocked on his half-open door. He’d arrived with two of Lupin’s men. Lupin had known them for a long time; their names were Jacques and Adrien Verne. They were identical twins in their thirties now. Both tall and slim in build with black hair. The main difference was their different suits and Jacques had a small scar on his chin.

Lupin took them to Nemo’s room and unlocked the door. He was still asleep; the water Lupin had made him drink had worked. He looked far more at ease now that he had accepted some help and consumed something to ease the pain. Lupin didn’t want to move him, even with such a small wound it would be dangerous. But they couldn’t bring a doctor to the boat, it would raise far too many questions and then the police would be on their trail. He had to be moved, it was the better option.

The twins were ready to move Nemo from the bed to the stretcher that Zenith had brought with him. Once the stretcher was in its temporary place on the floor, Lupin pulled the blanket back, so the men could lift him. Nemo still had no shirt, but the amount of bandages that covered his torso made wearing a shirt impractical for the time being. At least no blood had soaked through.

The four men lifted the captain and placed him on the stretcher. They did their best not to hurt him, but he still turned his head at the uncomfortable jostling. Nemo was then covered with the blanket again and the two men lifted the stretcher to carry him outside. "Carry him as though he was me, messieurs, carefully now," Lupin instructed from behind as Jacques and Adrien whisked him away.

Lupin retrieved his bag to take with them. "Come, Zenith. We have a busy night ahead of us."


	10. Critical Measures

**Chapter 10 - Critical Measures** **  
****Bergues, France (Continued)**

Lupin wished he could spare more than a glance towards Nemo to see how he was. Zenith was in the passenger's seat, and he was on high alert. Nemo had the back seats to himself. Neither of them expected Nemo to try to get out, or for someone to get in, but nonetheless, they were careful to not ignore the risk. To ignore a risk made it more likely to happen.

"How is he?" Lupin asked.  
Zenith looked hard at Nemo. Lupin glanced at him repeatedly, waiting for a reply. Lupin was a fine actor but he couldn't contain all his anxiety. If Nemo didn't get through this, it would be a disaster.

"Zenith, how is he?" Lupin asked again.  
"He's just the same."  
"Well, at least he isn't getting any worse. It’s not much further now."  
Zenith took to looking out of the window at the passing houses. “This friend of yours, is he one of your men?"  
"Not exactly, but it is somewhere safe for Nemo to stay. It won't be long before we arrive. The doctor I know is only a minute or so away from her house."

"Her?" Zenith questioned, raising an eyebrow and turning to look at him.  
"My foster mother, Victoire,” Lupin admitted. “I hoped to keep her out of this mess, but there’s no other option."  
Zenith nodded and looked back at Nemo. He still seemed to be in slight pain when he breathed, and even with such small wounds, the infection was causing his health to decline.

Lupin finally stopped the car outside a fenced-off, large house. They were on the outskirts of Bergues from what Zenith could tell. “Wait here,” Lupin instructed. Zenith studied the house a moment. There was a well-kept garden with a range of flowers, some were blooming, but others were beginning to die with the cooler weather. The house didn't seem plagued with age and looked secure enough. Hiding here didn't look like it would be too unpleasant.

Lupin opened the car door and approached one of the windows. None of the lights were on. He tapped his knuckle on the glass several times. It took a while until the curtain moved, revealing a plump woman, roughly in her fifties. There were sparks of grey in her once black hair, but her cheeks seemed as rosy and her smile as lively as what she no doubt looked like years ago.

Lights gradually illuminated a few rooms and it took a while until she opened the door. Zenith guessed she had retired to her bed. "My dear boy, what on Earth are you doing here at this time of night?" she asked in French.  
"I am sorry, Victoire, but there was no alternative. An acquaintance of mine is wounded and ill. You were the closest and safest place I could take him to."  
"Not to worry then, not to worry. Where is the poor fellow?" 

Lupin gestured to the car.

"Good Lord! What is that... contraption?!" she exclaimed.  
"Hush, Victoire. I will explain inside. For now, let us get our friend out of the cold," Lupin whispered, as he opened the back door to the car. “Oh, and of course, this fine fellow is Monsieur Zenith. A new associate of mine. Monsieur Zenith, this is Victoire."

"Bon soir, mademoiselle. It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance," Zenith greeted, bowing once he climbed out of the car.   
"Good evening, Monsieur," Victoire smiled back, although she looked a little baffled by the whole situation. Lupin and Zenith began to lift Nemo out of the car whilst Victoire lit up a few more rooms. Lupin's men had left Nemo on the stretcher to make it easier to move him again which was a great help.

It didn't take the two long to take Nemo upstairs and into one of the spare rooms.

Lupin could see Victoire watching him, as though analysing his expression. She seemed to have made a decision as to how her foster son was feeling. It was usually easy for Lupin to conceal it, but there was no point in acting tonight. Besides, Victoire somehow could always see through the act. Nonetheless, she said nothing for the time being, but Lupin knew from experience she would speak to him in private.

"Zenith, would you be so kind as to hide the car behind the house and run down the street to Doctor Guéroult's home? I pointed it out to you on the way here- the one beside the chapel. Keep the details of who we are out, in case anyone should overhear. Make sure he comes at once; do not leave without him. I think this can count as an emergency."  
"It's a good thing I like you, Lupin. I'm not used to taking orders," Zenith muttered.  
"Come, monsieur, you know you will be paid for your work. Now stop complaining. You need Nemo to live if you want your money."

Zenith sighed before he went downstairs and sneaked off into the streets.

Lupin turned his attention back to Nemo, who was lying in bed. Lupin collected another pillow to put under him to prop him up. He then sat down beside him for a while. He watched his chest rise and fall as it seemed to be causing him several problems. Lupin could see he was struggling to breathe sufficiently, as though someone was sitting on his chest.

Without his shirt, Lupin could see that the blood still had not seeped through the bandages, but it definitely seemed that the wound was infected. Lupin had replaced them every day on the boat, cleaning the wound as best he could. However, Lupin wasn't sure of the whole process. None of the crew knew how to treat wounds like this as well as a doctor would. Their only nurse hadn't come aboard the Swallow with them. Lupin grumbled to himself. They had been overconfident with their plan. Their big mistake.

"Arsène," Victoire enquired. "Are you alright?"  
"I will be fine. It is not myself that I am concerned for. We cannot lose this man. He's the key to everything. Our plan is in tatters."  
Lupin shook his head and stopped himself. Victoire didn't know what he was talking about. He would have to explain the details later when he was settled.  
"Please do not upset yourself, my dear. You may only make matters worse. Why don't you try to sleep. You look exhausted."

"I fail to see how matters can prove to get much worse. You must not be concerned for me. I will be quite alright until Guéroult's arrival. Before you go back to bed, would you be so kind as to put some water on the boil ready for him whilst I contact a friend of mine? You still have the telegraph I gave you, don't you?"  
"Of course. It's upstairs where you last hid it."  
"Thank you... and now, let us both get to work."

* * *

**(*A Few Minutes Later*)**

It took a little while for Lupin to prepare the telegraph. It had been hidden inside the stuffing of a mattress, which was locked away in the attic. Lupin had left the telegraph in case Victoire ever found herself needing her son's secret help. The telegraph could also communicate with Robur with a few changes. Lupin brought it into one of the two spare rooms and sent the following message to him:

... ..- -.-. -.-. . ... ... /  
.... --- .-- . ...- . .-. / .. / .... .- ...- . / -.. .-. --- .--. .--. . -.. / - .... . / ... .... . .-.. .-.. /  
.. - / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / - .- -.- . / .- / .-- .... .. .-.. . / - --- / .-. . .--. .--. .- .. .-. /  
.. / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -.- . . .--. / -.-- --- ..- / .. -. ..-. --- .-. -- . -.. /

 **(Success  
** **However I have dropped the shell  
** **It will take a while to repair  
** **I will keep you informed)**

Within minutes, a message was returned:

..- -. -.. . .-. ... - --- --- -.. /  
.... .- ... / .-.. -..- --. / ..-. --- .-.. .-.. --- .-- . -.. /

**(Understood, has LXG followed)**

Lupin paused as the door to the cottage opened and shut. The sound of heavy footsteps clambered up the stairs. Two voices spoke to each other in the hallway. Lupin could not make out what was being said.  
"Zenith?" he called after a moment, feeling uncertain of himself. He sighed a quiet breath of relief as the albino came to the door. He was feeling much more on edge than he first thought.   
"The doctor is seeing to him now. He’d like to speak to you. He said it was important, but not urgent. It was something along the lines of how long he has been injured," Zenith informed him.

"Merci, Monsieur. I will be there momentarily. I just need to send one more message." With that, Lupin turned his attention back to the wooden table and rattled off a reply.

  
..- -. ... ..- .-. . / -. --- - .... .. -. --. / ... .. --. .... - . -.. /  
.-.. / --- ..- -/

 **(Unsure nothing sighted  
** **L out)**

"There, that is done. Let us go and see what the doctor wanted from me."  
“I didn't know you knew Morse code,” Zenith said. He stood at the doorway, waiting for Lupin. “It’s a useful skill. Besides, I can do a lot of things. I had to keep the police busy somehow.”   
“And a fine job you still do at it,” he remarked with a smirk.

Lupin rose from his seat and left the room. Zenith followed behind him, with a tired look upon his face. Lupin assumed he was bored now that the excitement of the night was over. All that was left to do was allow Nemo time to heal. However, the struggle to ensure Nemo's survival was not finished yet..

* * *

 **September 10th  
** **(Continued)**

It was difficult for Nemo to keep track of time. With his exhausting fever, no clocks, and the fact the curtains were always closed meant he could only guess. It felt like a week had passed since he was taken, though it could have been longer. Nemo rested most of the time which helped him to pass the sluggish days away. After the first few days the balance started to shift and he began to stay awake for longer; the fever was dying out.

Day in, day out, escape was the only thing on his mind. Every time he woke up, he'd see if his chances were any better. The answer was always no. Almost every time he awoke, he saw Lupin’s calm face beside him, always watching him intently. Sometimes he would hold a cool damp cloth against Nemo’s forehead, or make sure he ate and drank what little he could. Lupin’s care had gotten him through.

But today was different. He had a speck of a chance to at least gather some answers. He was awake and alone. He didn't know how much time was available to him but he had a task set in front of him. He had to look out of the window. It was a reasonable goal considering his situation.

Nemo was tired of pressing like a vice for answers. He’d never gathered a response. He didn’t know why they wanted him, who wanted him exactly, or even how long it would take for him to find out the answers to these questions. He hated the ignorance surrounding his fate. It was difficult to plan anything when he couldn’t get even the simplest information, like which country he was in. France? England? Belgium?

Sitting up further in bed, Nemo waited a moment to listen for any signs of life. Nothing. What time was it? He took a deep breath and pulled the blanket back. Still being shirtless meant a vague chill nudged him as he did so. Another deep breath, another wait, but still the musky air stayed silent.

Nemo scanned the room from his bed. The room was dark, but he could see the outlines of the furniture well thanks to the oil lamp on the desk near the window. He furrowed his brow as he saw one of his shirts and a new pair of trousers folded on the table. They had not been there last time.

He rubbed his eye and looked to the rest of the room. The pitcher from the washbasin looked to be missing but Nemo did not understand why it had been removed. He couldn’t see himself in the mirror due to the angle but knew he didn’t look his best. What else had he missed?

There was no beef tea, bread or milk waiting for him on the bedside table, which was odd. As usual, there were no ornaments, no pictures on the cream wallpapered walls, and the fire wasn’t lit. There was nothing that could be utilised as a weapon, only the lamp, but Nemo wasn't that desperate to waste his chance at escape. It would be useless and would only limit his chances further in the long run.

Being sure to move slowly, he slipped out of bed. The cold floorboards creaked beneath him as he put his full weight down, mostly on his good leg. There was another hesitant wait until he deemed it safe to limp forward. His leg threatened to wobble, but it lasted the few steps to the wall. His ribs complained at the extra pressure. The patterned rug helped to mask any noise as he moved. He winced and leaned against the wall for a moment, then he turned to the window.

With the tips of his fingers, he brushed the curtain aside and peered out. The pale light of dusk was fading, making room for a cool quiet night. Nemo felt goosebumps sting at his skin. Condensation had formed tiny little droplets on the window and Nemo's breath made it harder for him to see out. He hesitated in wiping it. They’d know he’d been walking but he had little choice if he wanted to be able to look at the outside world.

Nemo wiped the water away from a small area of the glass. As he looked hard into the dark, his eyes grew wide. Was he seeing things? He furiously wiped more condensation away.  
“What?” he hissed. “That’s not possible.”

There, outside on the darkening streets, sat an automobile. Yet no relief came in seeing it. In the lamplight, he could see that the pearl white paint was now black and lacking the decorative elements, no doubt for easier concealment. There was no League inside, none of his crew, no one to help him. Somehow, Lupin and the others had taken one of his automobiles. He noticed that Zenith was outside, putting a few bags into the back, but he didn't look up to the window.

But how? Was it Moriarty? Had they stolen it? However they had managed to achieve it, the fact that they had this invention was the main cause for concern, and a serious one at that. They could share his work with indecent individuals, just like Moriarty had tried to only months ago.

The captain stopped. He had lost many good crew, good friends, in the last few months alone. He had lost too many in fact, not to mention Allan Quatermain. Nemo had learned to respect that stubborn old hunter over time. The two were similar in more ways than any of the League, even Quatermain himself, knew. It pained him to think of the dead now, especially as he was unaware of the crew or the League’s welfare after the attack. How was Ishmael fairing for instance? Was Mrs Harker alright after he had heard her screams? 

Nemo cast the thoughts from his mind, looking for some sort of indication about where he was. He knew they had been in the English Channel. There were only two real options as to where he could be and now Nemo was confident that he was in France rather than Belgium. The streets were not like that of England at least but it was by no means a certainty.

Should France be the case, they could take him anywhere in the mainland. Lupin had an automobile packed and ready so it was likely that they would be on the move again very soon. How was the League meant to find him then? Despite him getting definite answers for the first time, he felt his chances were slimmer than ever.

Nemo was so caught up in his disheartening despair that he didn't realise someone was at the door until the key turned in the lock. In stepped Lupin carrying a pitcher full of water with a cloth over his arm. He paused when he saw Nemo was up. Nemo braced himself, though, for what, he wasn't quite sure.

“Well this took you longer than expected, I thought you'd have been up sooner.”  
“How?” Nemo demanded, gesturing outside.  
“You left it at Venice,” Lupin answered, setting the jug down in its place on the water basin. Nemo clenched his fist, trying to push his anger away. “That would mean you have been following us for months,” he fumed. He could feel himself losing his patience; his temper was warming.

Lupin’s placid expression faltered for a moment. He hadn’t expected him to have realised that. It wasn’t something Nemo had expected to hear either. It added so many more questions to the ever-growing list. Lupin hid whatever concern he had behind a grin. “Caught the idea? By Jove, I'm impressed.”  
Nemo shot back “I want answers, Lupin. What is it you want with me?”  
“Have patience, Captain. You'll have your answers soon.”  
“No! Today and now. I have been here long enough,” he retorted.

Nemo stepped forwards, hoping to intimidate him. An uncontrollable wince ruined the effect, but his glare was still sharp enough to get his message across.

Lupin shrugged, unfazed. “It's been nine days in total, and I understand your impatience, but I'm sure you can wait a while longer. You should get ready.” Lupin gestured to Nemo’s clothes on the desk, “It’s time to go.”

Nemo bit back a reply and refused to move. He was within striking distance of the thief and continued to stare daggers at him. These men were not above him and he would not take orders from them.  
“Answers,” Nemo demanded again, his tone offering no room for disagreement.

Lupin stood up straight but maintained his level-headed attitude. “The faster you get ready the sooner we can set off. When we get there, then, and only then, will I be telling you anything.”  
“Where is ‘there’?!”

The tension deflated with every dull knock that came from the door. Lupin took a measured breath and Nemo retired to the window. He reminded himself to stay settled if he wanted to lower their sense of security. The chill from the window seemed to help ease him. He felt so powerless, so oblivious, and he hated it with every inch of his being. Why were they making it so difficult for him?

Lupin kept Nemo in the corner of his eye as he opened the door. “Victoire, is everything alright?” he asked in French.  
“Yes, only you left this downstairs. I thought you might have forgotten it,” Victoire answered, holding out a small wooden box. Lupin speaking French aided Nemo’s assumption of where he was at least.  
“Ah, thank you. I was meaning to bring that up,” Lupin answered, taking it from her in one hand, though with some difficulty. He smiled at her and she went back downstairs. Lupin closed the door again and turned back to Nemo.

With a sigh, Lupin walked over to him, placing the box on the desk near his clothes. He tried a friendlier approach. “The one thing I had forgotten- the wax for your moustache, combs, and a few other bits and pieces. I expect you’ll want to look presentable for when we leave… Trust me, Nemo. You'll have your answers soon.” 

Despite his reluctance, Nemo had little choice but to swallow his pride and back down yet again. Lupin would not be easily intimidated. “So be it,” he replied dully.  
Lupin nodded. "Thank you. I'll be back in an hour. Wash and get dressed, please. Call if you need me."  
“Where is my kirpan?” Nemo asked.  
“The knife? Don’t worry, I have it safe in its sheath. I know it is important to you, and I do apologise, but I cannot return it to you yet. Perhaps if you can prove you can behave on this ride I can reconsider.”

Considering his Nemo’s situation, that was a fair offer, but Nemo still felt wrong not having it by his side; it was part of his faith. At least it was safe and secure.

With that Lupin left him alone, locking the door behind him.

Nemo was somewhat grateful for Lupin’s help. He had to admit he was fortunate, for his time as a prisoner could be far, far worse. At least he was being looked after. Nemo was still unsure of what to think about Lupin. His common sense told him to stay well away from the thief, but another part of him was intrigued. Perhaps it was his consideration and charity, his pluck personality or the fact he knew the thief as a boy. Lupin had already brought him to what Nemo assumed was the most guarded secret he had to ensure his survival. Although he didn’t understand him yet, Nemo knew if he had to trust someone, for the time being, it would have to be Lupin.

Nemo glanced outside at the automobile once more. He knew his inventions could be deadly if they fell into the wrong hands. Nemo could only hope whatever dark plan he had been entangled in would be felled before it could fully set into motion. It dawned on him that Lupin was too careful to allow him to interfere and how hopeless he was on his side. He accepted that powerlessness. He knew he needed the League...


	11. Taking the Bull by the Horns

**Chapter 11 - Taking the Bull by the Horns  
** **Washington, America: September 5th  
** **(Continued)**

Sawyer was relieved that they were making progress with this case. Although it had only been an hour or two at the most to find a strong lead, it had felt like a great deal longer. Sawyer had driven the automobile back to the Secret Service and he was glad he insisted that Ishmael stayed on board the Nautilus. He'd had too much of a shock to be up so soon. 

He could only imagine how much of a nightmare that Ishmael was reliving. For all Sawyer knew nothing about what had happened, he had a vague intuition that this Robur was perhaps as bad as Moriarty, likely far worse. If Sawyer ever found out that that monster was alive, he could imagine he'd feel the same way.

In all honesty, he didn't like how quickly they moved the investigation onwards and practically found their culprit. It did make sense for it to be this Robur character, but he was too afraid to ignore all other options just because one piece of evidence had been found. That didn't mean that Ishmael's assumption was wrong, but nonetheless, Sawyer had made that mistake too many times. This time there was no room for error.

Still, it did seem that Robur, or rather his associates, had merely been hiding in the shadows ever since he had been killed. Sawyer had a feeling Nemo would be glowing with rage if he knew his flag had been found. It was becoming clear to Sawyer that Robur was the Nautilus's worst enemy. Without hesitation, he added himself to the list of those who despised him, but Sawyer wanted to know if he was hating a dead man or not.

There was only one thing that especially troubled Sawyer. How were they supposed to find Nemo? This would not sway Sawyer from the task ahead but it did seem a lot harder knowing Nemo could have been anywhere. For all the League knew, they could be going in one direction and Nemo in the other.

This mission was becoming more daunting with every moment that passed.

Sawyer only hoped that they had not gone far. Unfortunately, by the looks of the plan that these men had used to capture Nemo so far, they were clever. After all, they had twisted their strengths into weaknesses with ease. These men were not to be underestimated.  
_ Neither is the League _ , Sawyer reminded himself. He hoped to keep his spirits up and maintain his optimistic look at things, though he found it to be difficult. With any luck, the folder they were searching for would have at least some of the answers the League sought.

“Well then," Skinner suddenly said, climbing out of the front of the Automobile now that Sawyer had stopped driving. "Time to see how bad-tempered this old boy can get."  
Sawyer followed his example and also exited the Automobile.  
"It won't be pretty, I can guarantee that. I'll have to sign you in or I'll end up being fired for allowing strangers inside. You'll have to keep your coat on too or there'll be a scene and -"  
"Relax, Sawyer, I'll be a good boy. Do you want me to hold your hand too?" Skinner teased, taking the greasepaint out of his coat pocket and applying it to his face as he leaned against the side of the Automobile.  


"Laugh all you want, Skinner, but this is serious. White isn't someone to mess with. One word from him and I'll be out of the Secret Service forever, so please, just stay out of trouble."  
"I'm a thief, Sawyer, not a spy. I’m not going to be looking through the secrets of America, am I? Don’t give me that look! At least try to have some faith in me. All we have to do is have a quick flick through a grubby folder and work from there. I'll do whatever you tell me to within reason."  
"Just don't talk back to White, no matter what he says," Sawyer said, stressing every syllable with as much authority as he could muster.

Skinner watched as Sawyer sighed and headed towards the entrance. He couldn’t help but mutter, "That's why I said 'within reason'..."

* * *

**(*A Few Minutes Later*)**

It had not taken long for Skinner to get ready and for the two to make their way inside and to the almost deserted reception. Miss Finch seemed surprised to see him back so soon. Within a few seconds, Skinner was grinning at Miss Finch. She looked rather uncomfortable with his attitude and averted her gaze. Sawyer elbowed him in the side. “Behave,” he grumbled.

Sawyer smiled in acknowledgement and approached the front of the desk in the reception. Miss Finch smiled back. "Mr Sawyer," she greeted, putting on her mask of professionalism. "I see you’re back early."  
"I’m sorry, Miss Finch, but I can’t stay long. It’s just that I forgot something. My friend Mr Skinner-"  
"Call me Rodney," the thief grinned.

Sawyer sighed. "Mr Skinner needs to be signed in whilst I head to my office. Could you show him down if you have time, please? If not, I’m sure he can find his own way there." Sawyer looked at Skinner in a subtle way, but so he knew what he was implying.  
"Of course, I can do that for you, Mr Sawyer."   
"Thank you," he answered with a cheerful edge to his voice. Sawyer was about to walk away, but a thought struck him. "Miss Finch, did you by any chance move the folders from my office?"   
"Not yet, Sir, I was just about to," she admitted.

"Perfect, that's brilliant!" he exclaimed genuinely. With any luck, White was unaware of the situation. Sawyer could take back the note from White's desk and hope that he hadn't seen it yet. Maybe could get away with this after all.

Sawyer rushed on ahead to his office, leaving the embarrassing Skinner with Miss Finch. He hoped Skinner did as he was told. He didn’t want to imagine the ruckus if he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have been in a place like this. 

When Sawyer entered the office, his heart leapt into his mouth. Mr White was standing, smouldering with fury. "There is a vital emergency concerning a previous mission. Apologies for being unable to speak to you in person. However, this may be a threat to national security," Mr White read out loud, sneering as he read the words on the small piece of paper. "What in God's name is this!?" he roared.

"I'm sorry, sir, I-" Sawyer began, forcing himself not to bolt back out the door.  
"No! No excuses. Answer my question! What is this?"  
"A note explaining my absence, Sir, because-"  
"I don't want to hear it, Sawyer!"  
"Yes, sir."

Sawyer took a deep breath and waited for the rest of the storm to pass. He hated when White shouted, he made him feel like a schoolboy all over again.  
"Get these folders tidied up now, boy. Hurry up!"  
Sawyer struggled to stop himself from hitting White with those damn folders.

When Sawyer found the folder he had needed, he slyly put it on the top of the pile. White stood with arms crossed, trying to rein his anger in. He stared at Sawyer with a stare so cold it could have frozen the paws off a Mongolian tiger. Sawyer tried to hide his annoyance as he sorted out the final few folders. He accidentally slammed the occasional folder onto the growing organized pile. But he held his silence, and so White did not speak.

White turned his head as the door creaked. Sawyer guessed one of the younger agents was listening in or maybe Skinner was waiting outside. White stomped over to the door and slammed it shut. He found a coat on the floor. With a furious mutter, he threw it onto the coat stand. When he turned around Sawyer was standing with a complete pile of organised work folders.

Sawyer noted the coat. It was leather, black and long. Not his.  
Oh no.  
He opened his mouth to speak, but White interrupted him. "Sawyer, what is my job here?" Mr White went behind Sawyer’s desk and sat down, as though proving the point that he was in charge.   
"To send the appropriate agent out into the field for a mission, sir," Sawyer replied, trying to remain patient.  
"Correct. Now at what point do you decide to ignore the rules of the Secret Service and go gallivanting off like this building is a playground? I know Agent Finn’s death hit you hard, but you cannot throw your duty out of the window!"  
"I’m sorry, Sir. It’s not H-... Agent Finn’s death, sir. I’ve more or less come to terms with what happened… No, sir. I had to go. I received an urgent message from-"

"Sawyer, I don't care if the King of England sent you that message! You ask me if you can go, and if the reasoning is valid, then I will allow you to. Is that clear?" his voice dripping with a burning venom. Sawyer nodded. White had changed his tune so quickly upon hearing that his actions were not out of grief. Had White spoken to Sawyer like that before Skinner had opened his eyes, someone would have had to drag him off him. "Is that clear?!" White yelled.   
"Yes, sir," Sawyer jumped, realising he had only nodded as he lost himself in alternate thoughts. How he hated that man sometimes. He never allowed you to put your side across. He always had to bellow at him.

White sighed in frustration, getting to his feet and pacing. "Amuse me. What was so urgent about the message that you could not wait to speak to me and tidy up? Why did you instead send Miss Finch to tell me? Does that poor woman not do enough for you?!"  
"It-"

"Think very carefully before you reply, Sawyer. Very carefully," White seethed.   
"Will you kindly shut up and let the poor sod speak?" a new voice exclaimed. The look of surprise on White's face was priceless. His jaw fell to the ground in such a mixture of anger, shock and insult, it was hard for Sawyer to keep himself composed. White saw Sawyer wince at the new voice.

White stumbled to the back of the room, searching for the new person who had spoken. Sawyer knew this meant trouble, but Skinner was as good as Huck for making him laugh. The shock he'd given White was almost worth any trouble. Sawyer wished Skinner had stayed quiet but now he could only hope he didn’t get fired.

"Sir, this is Rodney Skinner, the invisible man I worked with on my last mission: a member of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. He asked for me to go to the port today," Sawyer explained, taking advantage of the bewildered state Mr White was in. It didn’t take long for the man to pull himself together and aim his assault at the invisible man.

"How the hell did he get in here? Who in God’s name do you think you are?! Only I tell people who stays and who goes!" White demanded, head moving about looking for a sign of his whereabouts.  
The coat moved from the stand as Skinner slipped it on. As he fastened the buttons he said “In that order? Through the main entrance, welcomed by that lovely receptionist. The name’s Rodney Skinner if you’d been listening, and you’re no more important than Sawyer or anyone else, so get off that mighty high horse of yours.”

Sawyer quickly tried to signal to Skinner to stop, but he knew Skinner didn’t back down... Oh well, White couldn’t say he hadn’t tried.

“How dare you! Do you know who I am?”   
“A miserable git who's grown too big for his boots as far as I'm concerned, and cheer up for goodness sake. You look like a bulldog chewing on a wasp. You should be grateful you’ve got a fine lad like Sawyer on your side. You couldn’t ask for a finer agent so stop your squawking and let him speak without butting in. This is important and you're wasting time that we don't have!"

When White held his silence in red hot fury, Sawyer began to explain. Sawyer could tell the curiosity was getting the better of the strict boss. "I brought Mr Skinner here to help me. He asked me to go with him earlier today. A different member of the League has been captured. His name is Captain Nemo, an incredible engineer. Sir, if he builds anything for any enemies of the nation, America could be at serious risk. I returned to collect a folder, which we believe links to his capture."

Sawyer took the small flag from his pocket and spread it out on the table. He then opened the folder he needed and showed White how the two images of the sun were identical. "We found this flag at the scene of the crime. For the exact same design to be in a case file cannot be a coincidence."  
"I see," White replied, a great deal calmer than before. Sawyer could still see his eye was twitching, which meant he wasn’t completely at ease.

Sawyer could see the gears turning in White’s head as he rubbed his chin. He looked at the floating coat and back to Sawyer. It seemed Skinner had knocked some calmness into him and stopped him from feeling as high and mighty as he had moments ago when he was scolding Sawyer.

"Sir, with all due respect, I must be allowed to see that folder and leave to look into this. Not only for America, but I owe it to Nemo; he's my friend. His life could be at risk."

White tensed. He had made up his mind. "The result of this little mission you have made for yourself will determine if you still have a job when you return. Take your blasted folder and do not bother me again! If you are wrong, I will personally have you dealt with," he threatened, leaving the office and hitting Skinner’s shoulder with his as he barged past.

"Well, he’s a right ray of sunshine," Skinner remarked after the door slammed shut.  
Sawyer sat on the edge of his desk and rubbed the sides of his head. "That was too close. Damn, that man is impossible- and you were told to keep your coat on!”  
Skinner shrugged. “Got a bit too warm.”  
Sawyer couldn't hide his smile “Come on, if I want to employed after all this, we’d better get a move on."

"Well, get reading," Skinner remarked as he began to apply his greasepaint again.  
Sawyer read the content of the folder in his head. This time he made sure to focus on every word, unlike last time. 

"Alright, so cut a long story short, about eight years ago these flags appeared on the world’s greatest landmarks with days between each report. Paris, London, Egypt, and America. But there's just been another one in Germany on the Cologne Cathedral. People reportedly hear a trumpet whilst the flag is placed on the monument. The entire thing lasts for five minutes and then it all stops."  
"Five minutes? How can they get on top of something that big so quickly?" 

"That’s just it. The odd person has said that they see a giant cloud overhead. But that’s from a distance. There are no witnesses who've seen it up close. It's usually in the dead of the night… That sounds like something that has been built to me. These are big, even capital cities in some cases. There’s no way a cloud wouldn’t be seen.”  
“So what, it’s some kind of aircraft? It wouldn’t be the strangest thing we’ve seen this year,” Skinner remarked. Sawyer began to rub the back of his neck as he tried to think. None of this was making sense. It was a boat that had taken Nemo, not a floating monstrosity. Were the two linked after all?

"It sounds like we have another top-class engineer on our hands. If Robur is responsible for this, or someone who knew him, then we've got a problem," Skinner pointed out, pocketing his grease paint.  
Sawyer lit up at Skinner's deduction. He might have just hit the nail on the head."You’re right. I'm starting to wonder if Robur is really dead... Let’s get back to the Nautilus. Ishmael might be able to explain this,” Sawyer suggested.

Skinner nodded and put his hat back on. “As an old friend of mine would say: The game is afoot’...”

* * *

_**The** _ **_Nautilus  
_ ** **(Continued)**

Upon arriving back at the Nautilus, after a small detour so Sawyer could pack a bag for the trip, Sawyer and Skinner could see Ishmael had composed himself and was settled down in his seat with a cup of tea. He wasn’t used to everyone fussing around him and it showed quite clearly with his fidgeting. Dr Jekyll and Mina were sitting in their seats beside him.

“You’re back,” Jekyll smiled, rising from his seat. “Did you find anything?”  
“Yes, we got the folder, though it doesn’t make much sense yet,” Sawyer replied. Skinner sat himself down in the spare seat beside Mina. He shuffled over towards her in his seat. Mina sent him a subtle warning out of the corner of her eye. The invisible man got the message, though he couldn’t help but smirk.

“How are you feeling, Ishmael?” Skinner asked, looking over to the first mate.  
“Better thank you, sir,” Ishmael answered.   
“Good, because it looks like you’ll be the only one who can make any sense out of this mess,” Skinner said.

Jekyll made a gesture, offering to read the folder. Sawyer handed it to him and added, “This folder is from 7 or 8 years ago, but whatever it is has made a reappearance.” He sat down and yawned. He hadn't realised how tired he was.  
He didn’t like reading out loud, so he was grateful for the doctor’s offer. After righting himself and clearing his throat, Jekyll began to read.

“Eyewitness accounts supported and occasionally vaguely verified by agents present at the time, report strange occurrences that have taken place at different locations around the world. Flags of unknown origin and purpose have been placed upon several landmarks.

The exact same sequence of events occurs at each site. A trumpet is heard playing a song, identified as the "Chant du Depart" while the flag is fixed into position on the landmark. After five minutes, the music ends and the flag is in place with no further evidence of who or what was responsible for placing it.

Locations of these occurrences include, but are not limited to the following. It should be noted that this is the order in which the incidents have occurred:  
Canton, China: the spike of the temple of the Four Hundred Genii  
Boston, America: the Bunker Hill Monument   
New York, America: the head of the Statue of Liberty  
London, England: the cross of St. Paul's   
Rouen, France: the metal spire of the Rouen Cathedral  
Paris, France: the lightning conductor of Eiffel's Iron Tower from the 1889 Exposition  
Giza, Egypt: the top of the Great Pyramid  
Rome, Italy: the cross of St. Peter's

The event was repeated in the same circumstances on September 1st 1899. Location: Cologne, Germany: a spire of the Cologne Cathedral

The exact meaning intended by these displays is unknown, but the similarity in method and appearance indicates the events are connected. Due to the short span of time and the great distances between the occurrences, most assume it is likely a group of people organized together rather than a singular individual. 

Another possibility kept from the public is that this is the work of a single individual. In some of the reports, eyewitnesses have described observing a “giant cloud’’ above the site. If the statements are taken to be reliable, it is likely there is a connection between the two observed phenomena. British Intelligence is standing by in Belgium, and many other agents are at other landmarks in other nations, anticipating the event will recur in a similar fashion as the ones beforehand.”

There was a dreadful, heavy moment of silence. Though the report was brief, Ishmael appeared to understand. He had closed his eyes and drew a few breaths in silence, trying to compose himself before he spoke. Sawyer could not help but feel as though someone was slowly digging their nails across his back. It was his infamous feeling of unease. Without warning his body had a sudden cold shiver.

“Ishmael?” Sawyer said, distracting himself from that horrible feeling of dread. Ishmael leaned forward in his chair, resting his chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing himself to be calm. He seemed to be almost entranced as he stared down at the floor. Everyone present braced themselves for the inevitable bad news.

After swallowing a lump that rose in his throat, he began to speak. “Then it is true," he looked up and forced himself to lean back. "They're back, only I do not know if Jean Robur is alive or if one of his men has picked up where he left off. This will all be for revenge no doubt, even after all these years,” Ishmael's words began to stick in his throat. “If they're out for blood Captain Nemo won't stand a chance… Robur has already taken too much from us.” Ishmael’s gaze met Skinner’s. The thief read in his expression so much fear and pain, Skinner couldn’t bear to not speak.

“Then we’ll have to beat them to him,” Skinner said, sitting up in his chair. He displayed as much courage and determination as he could in front of the first mate. He hoped the rest of the League would do the same.

“We’ll be trying to find a needle in a haystack, but Skinner is right. Perhaps if we go to Belgium and find one of these agents, we might be able to pick up a trail,” Jekyll suggested.   
“But nothing has happened yet. How do we know that there will be anything there? There's every chance we'll be wasting time,” Mina interjected, taking a drink of her tea and resting the cup on her lap.  
“We very well might be, but it looks to be the best course of action for the meanwhile,” Jekyll said.

“Nemo’s still got a good chance, Ishmael,” Sawyer reassured him. Ishmael was not comforted and as he spoke Sawyer realised why. “That cloud the report spoke of is actually Robur's invention. It is called  _ The Albatross _ , his flying ship - it must have been rebuilt or repaired. Sooner or later, I think they will strike Belgium if they’re up to their old tricks. The ship seems to be in that vicinity. Robur was a megalomaniac - hoping to take over the world. I expect his men shared his dream. That damned airship can reach over double the speed of the Nautilus. We’ll never catch them!”

“Anyone else getting a sense of Déjà vu?” Skinner muttered.

“We have to try, just like we did with Moriarty,” Sawyer insisted, standing up from his seat. He couldn’t help but feel as though time was running out, as was his optimism. “If Belgium hasn’t been hit yet, then we ought to go. If we head to the ports we might hear about this strange boat Nemo was taken in any way. This is the warmest trail we’ve got and Nemo hasn’t got the time for us to wait to find a better one.”

A cold, stinging silence filled the large room. Something seemed to be bothering Ishmael. After a few seconds, he began to speak. “Nemo and I were held prisoner for a long time whilst the Nautilus was being built. We were trapped on Robur’s island stronghold. When we escaped, we tried to make sure the island was damaged to the point of no return."

"What are you trying to say?" Skinner asked.  
"So long has passed since then I wonder if the Island has become habitable again. It would take us several weeks to reach there and the Nautilus’s crew would prefer for that hellish place to be our last resort, but it is an option should this trail grow cold." Ishmael set his cup down on the table and stood up feverishly. "I’ll get the crew ready to leave for Belgium. Please excuse me.”

With that, the first mate left without another word.

“He’s struggling to cope beyond what is bearable,” Jekyll observed, running his hand through his hair.   
“All of the crewmen are,” Mina added, putting her cup on the table beside her. A dismal heavy air tried to fall upon the room, like a curtain at the end of a play. 

Skinner slapped his thighs and pushed off them to stand up. “Well, pack your jammies and your toothbrush because it looks like we’ll be leaving in a few minutes. These buggers have picked the wrong League to mess with and I think we ought to tell them personally, don’t you think?” The remains of the League nodded in approval. 

That filled Sawyer with more confidence than any level of optimism could ever achieve    
_ Hold on, Nemo. We’re onto you now... _


	12. New Faces

**Chapter 12 - New Faces  
** **Brussels, Belgium: September 12th**

For months, he had hardly had anything to work with. For months, he had been travelling all across Europe, trying to uncover the mystery of the Landmark Flags. It was only now that Sherlock Holmes had put himself in the right place at the right time. Finally, he was able to witness this spectacular event for himself in Belgium.

It was an incredible sight to behold, as well as being quite a numinous experience. It began in the thick of the night, at twenty four minutes past ten precisely. The clouds were steel grey against the moonlight and low set. For all it was so cloudy, it was still dry. London's weather had not followed Holmes across the sea.

For the last few weeks, he had been staying in Brussels, waiting to see if the mysterious event would repeat itself here. With every slow monotonous day that passed, he began to lose faith in his assumption that the Saint Michael Cathedral would lure his target in. Had he misread the pattern? Holmes raised an eyebrow as he mentally disagreed with himself. No, he knew that Belgium would soon be on the list. The detective decided to light his pipe as he mused over the facts again. He left his paper on the wall as he struck a match.

Without warning, the weather began to change and the winds picked up. They picked up so much, in fact, Holmes’ paper went flying down the street. He grumbled at his waste of money. The whipping winds forced him to give up on trying to light anything. The matches couldn't last.

Holmes looked up. At first glance, he thought it was a huge storm cloud heading towards him. Then he looked harder. The great coal-dust black cloud did not change its shape as a cloud would when it tumbled across the sky.

That led Holmes to one deduction that, as unlikely as it seemed, could be the only explanation. It was, in fact, a flying object- A flying ship! This is what he had been waiting for all this time! Though now, he felt belittled and intimidated. He couldn’t help but furrow his brows as his eyes became transfixed on his target, glinting and alarmed. Just what was this almighty aircraft? The thick clouds and dark sky concealed its full form, much to the detective's disappointment.

The noise of the engine drew tens upon tens of people from their homes. The ship above them sounded like millions of bees, all flying together in a great swarm. The noise seemed to weave its way through the air but barely made it to Holmes’ ears. It passed slowly overhead, stressing the ship's pure size and casting a monumental shadow over the gathering crowd. The people were shouting and gasping at one another. Some children buried themselves into their father's sides as they looked out their windows, unsure of what to think of this unusual occurrence. Others begged to follow, asking what it was and what it was doing. It seemed no one knew what to do as the mystifying machine flew overhead. The air was tense, no one fully able to see what this was. But they all watched. They all waited.

Due to the growing crowd, Holmes moved out of the way. He was careful to avoid the few policemen on duty, who were trying to gain control of the situation. He looked around at the people again. A woman near him had fainted and her husband was working on waking her.  
"What is it, mama?" a little girl asked.  
"What on Earth is it doing?"  
"Look how fast it is going!" a young man exclaimed.   
"No wait, it's slowing down."  
"It's headed towards the cathedral!" someone else cried.  
“Was that director of the observatory at Zi Ka Wey right all along? That it is a flying vessel?” an older man said over Holmes’ shoulder.

He set off and rounded the corner. Now he could see the entire Cathedral, though he was at the side. The ship finally stopped a few yards above the old building. The dark clouds, the noise, the suspense- what an adventure! 

Now that the ship had stopped, the entire capital seemed to grow silent, listening to the humming, waiting to see what the ship would do. The wait was tense and suspenseful. Hushed murmurs seemed to be carried on the winds. The people began to become wary; the silence scared them. Holmes himself was silent. He watched and waited with bated breath.

The silence shattered like glass. A single trumpet blared throughout the air, and it was clear the player knew this harmony off by heart. Many people jumped in alarm and some children screamed. It was a proud and clear song, meant to instil bewilderment and intimidation into the souls of those who heard it. And it was likely the whole area was awakened by its cry.

Holmes kept himself composed throughout. He would not allow himself to be affected by this monstrosity as many now were. A few people fainted and the rest were looking up in amazement, pointing and shouting. Some fled, whilst others hid inside the buildings.

An older Policeman, roughly in his early fifties, approached him and ushered for him to get back. He was quite an unusual man with an egg-shaped head with a moustache curved upwards like buffalo horns. He wore a navy blue uniform which was very well looked after. Holmes assumed he was very proud of his occupation.  
"Please, Monsieur, you must keep your distance. The police will see to this situation."  
"Merci, Monsieur, but I am Sherlock Holmes- you may have heard of me. I have been following this case."  
"Ah, oui, I have indeed heard of you, detective Holmes. My name Inspecteur Poirot.”

Holmes nodded to him in recognition and the two watched as the spectacle unfolded. "That song," Poirot exclaimed. "It is the Chant du Dèpart- It is French!"   
"Then what is it doing up there in that monstrosity?" Holmes asked as the trumpet continued to blaze away. The song resonated against the warm air, its echo weaving between the large buildings.

From the giant machine, a rope ladder dropped on top of the Saint Michael Cathedral. Two men climbed down, carrying a great roll of material - a flag no doubt. As they were so high up, they seemed only to be two dots. Holmes watched as they secured the flag to the Cathedral and disappeared back up the ladder. For a second, the flag hung limply but then wind caught itself in the material. Everyone gasped as they beheld the sight in front of them. It was a black flag, and as the moonlight reached down for it, Holmes could see it was speckled with stars and bearing a large golden sun in the centre. So the story was true!

"Sacré bleu!" The policeman exclaimed. "Monsieur, can you make out anything about those two men? My eyes fail to serve me at such a distance."   
"I'm afraid not," he replied above the noise.

The majority of the people were shouting and arguing. Holmes wasn't quite able to make it out. "What do they say?" Holmes asked.   
"They are frightened. They do not know who is to blame or what is happening… Many suspect it is the work of France, believing it to be a sign of war."

Some drunken men had begun to sing the Belgian National Anthem, as though to drive the airship away. Many joined in with their singing. The trumpet seemed to boom with anger and the singing intensified in retaliation. Holmes couldn't help but smile as the singing continued. "It is possible Britain and Germany's apparent altercations have prompted France to take action. Yet I doubt that this is France's doing. That flag does not belong to a nation, and France would put up her colours to accompany that song."

The ship began to move again, heading west. The crowd's chanting may have worked; the people certainly believed it as they continued to sing, shout and cheer. Holmes suspected the ship only moved on as its work was done now that the flag was in place. The detective could only admire the courage of the Belgian people.  
"Perhaps it is an individual who is of French Origins?" Poirot suggested as the noise began to dwindle, though he still had to shout.   
Holmes’ gaze remained transfixed upon the flying ship. "I'm not sure, but I fully intend to find out. Will you come with me please, inspector?"

"But of course! It would be an honour."

* * *

**(*Sometime Later*)**

For several hours, the two enforcers of the law followed this magnificent flying machine. It had been dark for a while, and a chill had found its way into the air. The two men had managed to find a carriage with a driver either brave or foolish enough to follow their new lead.

Holmes and Poirot did not speak too often during this journey. The English Detective explained all he knew about the Mystery of the Landmark Flags, but there was not a lot to converse about. Holmes kept popping his head out of the window every few minutes, making sure that the driver kept them on course.

For a moment the winds thinned out the clouds. The moonlight managed to shine on the ship, as though it was a sign from the heavens. With this extra light, Holmes could see the enormous machine was made of what looked to be some sort of wood, which had been varnished. The white glow seemed to illuminate the great ship as the clouds moved out of its way.

As it became clearer to see, he was surprised to see dozens of metal masts. The masts bore no sails, instead, on the very top of each metal pole, there was an enormous propeller. Some were larger than others, though even the smallest was three or four times the size of a man. It was tremendous!

Poirot sat patient and rarely looked out of the window to see where they were. Occasionally he would quietly begin to hum the Belgian Anthem to himself. He trusted Holmes would keep them on the right track. Holmes couldn't help but feel Poirot was quite an unusual little policeman, but he seemed to be good company.   
  
Looking out of the window again, the English detective found that the mysterious ship was beginning to lose altitude.   
"Poirot, the ship is landing. Now's our chance to see what's really going on."   
"But how, monsieur? You do realise there are only two of us."  
"We'll have to use our brains and not our brawn. We just need to give the police and myself a decent lead to follow. Monsieur, Stop the cart! Wait for us here until we return. If we’re not back within an hour, contact the police and tell them what has happened." Poirot translated. The driver nodded and a healthy sum of money sealed the deal.

The two climbed out of the cart and hurried after the flying machine, which had landed in a neighbouring field. Holmes hoped that their means of transportation had not been seen. Otherwise, this mission would not have a successful ending.

Holmes and Poirot watched from behind some thickets as a smaller machine was unloaded from the ship. Poirot voiced his displeasure at hiding somewhere so dirty. He expressed what was almost pain at the state his shoes and uniform were in - despite them still being very presentable. Holmes told him to stop fussing.

Both pairs of eyes settled on their target. When the smaller machine was fully unloaded Holmes could see it with far more clarity. It looked a little bit like a metal carriage, painted black with wheels made of rubber. It looked impossible for a horse to be able to be connected to the machine. Perhaps it moved by itself?! Whoever was in charge of the placement of the flags, they looked to be, or have in their employ, the most advanced engineers in the world.

Now they were out of sight of any city, the ship became illuminated with multiple small lamps. One by one, they began to radiate an orangish glow to light the ship. They gave a spectacular and yet eerie appearance to everything that happened. There were nine or ten men above deck. Only half of these seemed to be members of the crew who were hard at work. The rest kept out of their way while they worked.

Holmes and Poirot moved a little closer to the ship but remained well hidden. They paid close attention to who was on board. Both of them could make out who was the leader- or captain rather- of the ship. He was above average height, built like a bull with metallic grey hair and wearing some sort of grey uniform. He carried himself with pride and a healthy amount of vigour. Holmes didn't even need to be close enough to see the colour of his eyes to know he was not a timid man. He stood with a straight back and his hands sitting behind his back. He radiated an air of authority.

The man was speaking to a slightly taller figure. Sherlock could not see the man's face from the angle at which he was standing, but he could see the stranger's black hair colour and his size. This man wore black trousers and a tighter fitting blue long-sleeved shirt. It was obvious to see from the shirt that he was muscular, like one of those men whom you see playing rugby. Even from this distance, he appeared to be a complete athlete.

"Robert, you're with me," the black-haired man said to another stocky figure, who bore bright chestnut- coloured hair. He perhaps possessed greater physical strength than his companion but was a bit shorter. "Rene, Jean, you'd best stay here," he continued. These two men were of medium height, one was thinner than the other and therefore looked taller. He had light blond hair, whereas the other's hair was red.    
"Yes, chief," they both replied.

There were a few shouts and calls, at which point the two detectives ducked back down behind the shrubbery, fearful the men were calling out at them and not each other. "It looks like some of them plan to leave by that machine. We're on to them now, Poirot. We just have to follow them," Holmes grinned, watching as four large lights were emitted from the front of the machine. They looked ghostly, like the eyes of a predator.

The machine began to move away at a hurried pace. The two men were quite alarmed at how it moved. It was incredible! "We must still be careful, Monsieur Holmes. We do not know who these men are or if they are a threat. Do not forget, I do not carry a gun. We must exercise all precaution during this chase."    
"We will, Monsieur. Let us get back to the cart, where we can follow at a distance."


	13. Dark Gatherings

**Chapter 13 - Dark Gatherings  
** **Ostend, Belgium  
** **(Continued)**

Hours later, Holmes and Poirot had arrived at a port. Poirot had done his utmost best in the cart to clean his shoes and dust himself off. Though most would have found it annoying, Holmes couldn't help but feel quite amused. _If he's as good at arresting people as he is at keeping clean we'll have this case cracked within the hour,_ he thought to himself.

The port was secluded as it was so late, and if there was anyone around, they did not make their presence known. The driver refused to remain for any longer. His horse was tired and the hour was late. Holmes had to use the last of his money, as well as Poirot's, to pay the driver. He then went on his way with a gruff nod and paid them no more attention as he hurried along, eager to get away from these strange goings-on.

Holmes and Poirot headed over to a source of white light that was piercing the heavy shadows. It was coming from the unusual machine that had come to a stop. The light seemed to illuminate the machine in cold and frightening air. "Let's hide on the other side. If not, we'll be seen,” Holmes said. They were sure to stay out of range of the beams.

The minutes succeeded one another slowly. An hour passed and there was no change at all. The black-haired man was leaning against this absurd machine, no doubt waiting, and talked to the other man, Robert, who was stood straight and seemed a little more patient. Neither Holmes nor Poirot could hear what was being said. What they did hear seemed more like small talk than anything valuable. Holmes listened anyway, hoping for a clue.

When a relatively large boat pulled in, Holmes had to stop himself sighing in relief. By now it was the dead of night and the English detective was struggling to repress relentless yawns. The Belgian policeman was also far from impressed at missing out on his sleep. It exhausted his little grey cells which provided him success and a degree of fame in his work.

"Look," Holmes whispered. His face carried a weighted and grim expression.

Poirot did as the Englishman asked. His blood turned cold upon seeing who stepped off the large metallic boat. It was none other than Fantômas. Fantômas- the infamous assassin! As soon as his presence was noted the atmosphere darkened. He seemed to draw the life and energy out of everything there; his acrimonious manner could intimidate even the strongest of hearts. They only recognised him because of one thing: he was wearing that infamous black mask.

"That's all we need," Holmes grumbled. When Fantômas began to speak to the two men who were waiting, Holmes and Poirot grew silent, straining their ears to listen.  
"Nyctalope, where are the others?" Fantômas demanded gruffly.  
"There has been no sign. Robur told me he had received a message a few days ago. They should be here within the hour if they have not been delayed further," the black-haired man, Nyctalope said. Holmes looked closely at this ‘Nyctalope’ unsure of what this name meant to the man. Whatever it meant, he seemed quite undisturbed at the notorious assassin who stood before him. Sherlock could only admire his courage.

Fantômas came close to him. "I received the same message. However, as you can see, Lupin is not here. So where is he?” Fantômas grumbled. The young men did not seem overly intimidated, although Robert seemed to tense.

Poirot turned and saw Holmes’ jaw drop and his eyes grow wide. Lupin! Poirot hoped it was not the Lupin he was thinking of- but it couldn't be. Arsène Lupin would never join some organised gang like this- especially not with the likes of Fantômas. Lupin was against killing. He and Fantômas were as different as could be. He had to be mistaken. It had to be a different Lupin.

As though right on cue, another one of those black moving carriages appeared. After stopping near to the other machine, a man of slim and athletic build exited it from the back door. He was an albino, and he seemed similar to a thief Poirot had seen before. _Monsieur Zenith_ , he thought to himself. So there was a thief in this mysterious gang? Zenith was stood in his normal impeccable attire with black trousers with small vertical stripes running down them. He had a clean white shirt with a white bow tie and a blazer jacket, which was was plain black, though the collar was also striped to match his trousers.

"Fantômas, Nyctalope, Monsieur Champeau. Apologies for our lack of punctuality. We had to go around any towns and so we took longer than expected," he explained. He perched on a wooden crate beside the car, crossing his legs over once he was comfortable. He took out his gold cigarette case from his pocket, and lit himself a cigarette. He then began to puff away, sending the heavy grey smoke into the air. It all contributed to the aberrant aura that surrounded him.  
"Yes, we'd heard you'd had a change of plan. You still made quite good time in getting here. These cars are very impressive it seems," Nyctalope answered, his voice firm and sonorous. Holmes was intrigued at seeing such seemingly inexperienced people working alongside such legendary figures. What were they all doing?

The door at the front of this… car, opened revealing the man that Holmes dreaded seeing so much. There he stood, bold as brass. He seemed to radiate with a mysterious and yet non- threatening air. Lupin's energetic figure seemed to overtake Fantômas's dark and sinister feeling that he had created. Holmes felt his heart lighten at the sight. It actually reassured him. _Reassured to see a thief. What is this day coming to?_ He thought to himself.

Lupin was not dressed as finely as he usually was. His blazer had been removed, as had his bow tie. The top button was undone and he had rolled up his sleeves. Sherlock assumed it was easier for him to drive the car like that instead of feeling restrained. "Bonjour, Messieurs. I hope the paintings have been safely deposited?" he asked as he put his sleeves back down.

Fantômas nodded. Lupin grinned with his eyes flashing with excitement.

"How is the captain, Monsieur Lupin?" Robert asked.

"See for yourself,” Lupin smiled, opening the back door of the machine. He then went to the other side to retrieve his blazer and put it on. Robert went forwards and looked at a Sikh man of Indian origin, who was dressed in fine blue clothes, who was asleep in the back. After a moment or two, he moved away from him, content with his findings. It was only once he moved that Holmes could see the resting man's hands were bound with rope. That was unexpected. A prisoner. Was this a trade?

"Come, we ought to leave before we draw any attention to ourselves. I expect Nemo will be coming around soon,” Lupin said.  
"Do not speak as though we were the ones who were late," Fantômas growled.  
"I said nothing of the sort, Monsieur. I know we are late- over a week late in fact. But need I remind you how we came to be so far behind schedule in the first place?" Lupin countered calmly.

"Nemo... Why have I heard that name before? My brother mentioned him. He's one of ours..." Holmes muttered to Poirot. Poirot was about to speak, but the two heads that were speaking whipped around to the direction the two men were in. Holmes and Poirot ducked down, hopeful that the darkness would conceal them. Lupin and Fantômas looked at each other and muttered something inaudible.

"Damnation. We need to move," Holmes whispered as Nyctalope approached them.

"Can you see anything, Nyctalope?" Lupin asked, slowly making his way back to the car.  
The two men held their breath for fear of being heard. Nyctalope stood still and looked ahead in the direction of the law enforcers. "I'm... not sure," he admitted.  
"You can see better than any of us," Fantômas remarked dryly.  
"In the dark, Fantômas, not through objects... I'll go look," Nyctalope answered.

With a sigh, Nyctalope began to creep towards them again. Holmes and Poirot began to weave their way through boxes and barrels, ducking down to avoid being seen. Poirot spotted Holmes drew his gun from his pocket, readying himself for conflict.

The shuffling of their feet caused Nyctalope to pick up his pace. He was closing in on them. Holmes led on into the warehouse behind them, trying to find a hiding spot in which they could wait. The darkness loomed around them, making it almost impossible to see anything. Poirot kept close to the detective, trying to find a doorway of some sorts. It became clear that the two had made their way into the warehouse and that there was no sign of a secondary door.

It was clear to Holmes that this man who was in close pursuit was likely a runner of noteworthy speed and exceptional endurance. That meant hiding would be their only option. He didn't like it, but what choice did they have? Nyctalope was a new name to him. Had Lupin followed them he would have known what he was up against. But now, he didn't have a clue, save for the darkness was apparently not their ally.

After meandering through aisles of boxes, crates, barrels, and sacks, the two men found themselves completely trapped. They felt around, trying to keep moving. Holmes looked around, trying to find any light to navigate. The two were about to double back when Holmes heard a ferocious shuffling, a muffled shout followed by a grunt. Holmes spun around, gun at the ready.

Silence crept back into the darkness. Holmes froze and listened, he could hear breathing, but he didn't know who it belonged to. "Poirot?" he whispered. No reply. He was about to call out again, but the quiet footsteps of the young man silenced him.

Quickly, he stretched his free hand out and fumbled around for a hiding spot. There was a light thud, which Holmes assumed was him knocking something over. He found a bit of a gap between two barrels. He tucked himself in as far as he could, before holding his breath. The footsteps stopped right beside him. But where was Poirot? Holmes didn't dare shoot in case it was the wrong man. If he stretched out his hand, he could have seized the man by the leg. Nyctalope stood so close and was even facing him. Holmes held his breath as best he could, which was harder after he had hurried to hide.

"On your feet, Monsieur Holmes. Hands up and drop the gun. You aren't the only one armed," Nyctalope warned. Holmes was right, it was not Poirot. However, instead of doing as ordered, he sat there, perplexed at the idea that this man could recognise him in the dark. Of course, it made sense now that he thought about it. Nyctalopia was the inability to see in dim light, though it sounded as though it was the opposite. Nyctalope could see clear as day in the dark!

"Up!"

Slowly, Holmes began to stand up, gripping his revolver. He felt something press into his chest; the barrel of a gun. "Drop it," Nyctalope ordered again. Holmes tensed his jaw before letting the weapon slip from his fingers and raising his hands up to his head. The gun fell to the floor with a clatter. There was no point in fighting yet. He could hardly see the man in front of him, let alone try to overwhelm someone who was far stronger.

The moment the gun hit the floor, he was seized by the arm and dragged out of the building. Sherlock winced as his arm was twisted behind him and held in place. He could feel the cold metal against the side of his neck. It was definitely a gun, a Browning by the looks of it as his surroundings became lighter. Nyctalope wordlessly forced Holmes out of the warehouse and back to where the other mysterious men were waiting.

* * *

**(*A few minutes earlier*)**

Poirot had done his utmost best to stay close to Holmes, hoping he could protect the great English Detective. Yet, as they waded through the heavy darkness, trying to seek safety, Poirot knew that this would not go according to plan.

When Holmes abruptly stopped, Poirot knew they had hit a dead end. Poirot turned around to make a desperate attempt to double back, only to bump into someone as he did.

Before he could even register what was happening, a hand clamped around his mouth and he felt an arm wrestling him away. He tried to shout for help as he was dragged down on the other side of a wall formed by the cargo. Poirot grunted as he fell down with a quiet thud. He ended up facing the makeshift wooden wall that separated him from Holmes. He felt a gun press against his back. He didn't dare move.

"Poirot?" Holmes whispered, straining to see in the suffocating darkness. The grip around Poirot's mouth tightened- a clear sign for him not to make any noise. He did not want to tempt the armed man who held him with such vigour. But why had Sherlock not been able to find this small path which would enable him to hide? Was it because he was looking for him?

Footsteps sounded, which must have belonged to the man who was chasing them. Poirot felt the man's grip tighten again, though only slightly and on his nose. It seemed he was telling the policeman to quieten his breathing. Holmes continued to try and hide. Poirot brought his hands up to his face to try to dislodge the man but only succeeded in elbowing the wooden crates, making a loud thump. Was this stranger going to suffocate him? As long as the man did not tighten his grip further, he would still be able to breathe. His other concern was how the man was ruining his moustache.

Poirot found himself holding his breath as Nyctalope caught Holmes. He listened to the conversation on the other side of the cargo, at which point the man slackened his grip, perhaps out of fear he _was_ suffocating him. Holmes was led away, at gunpoint, back to the two machines.

After a few seconds, the man began to give instructions. "Do not call out," he whispered and took his hand away from Poirot's mouth. Poirot inhaled deeply and shuddered but did not speak, still very aware of the gun.

"Who are you?" Poirot dared to whisper. His fingers traced the outline of his moustache to ensure it was not misshapened by the struggle.  
"Sorry about that. I'm on your side, believe it or not. You can sit up now, it's quite safe." Although distrusting of the man, Poirot did as suggested. Moonlight illuminated the ground from this side of the wall. Poirot used the light to see the man who had seized him and thus protected him from discovery. He was an older gentleman with a short but well-trimmed beard. He was wearing sandy-coloured clothes and had a hat on his head- he was dressed as a hunter.

"My name is Allan Quatermain-"  
"Monsieur Quatermain… I thought you had died several months ago. I read it in the papers!" Poirot exclaimed.   
"Shh, it was a misunderstanding. That's not important for the time being. I need your help to save a friend of mine. Was there a man in the back of one of those Automobiles? Indian fellow, black hair, long beard, possibly in blue?"   
  
The Belgian policeman was surprised at the name he had given those strange machines but nodded at hearing the description of the man. He knew who the famous hunter spoke of at least.

"Good, I need you to point it out to me," Quatermain said.  
"But monsieur, what of Mr Holmes? And what was your aim in taking me to begin with?"   
"Holmes will be fine. I'll keep an eye on him. There was less chance of me being shot by taking you, and I needed to speak with one of you. I need you to tell me what you can about those men. Come this way," Quatermain explained, leading the baffled policeman onwards.


	14. The Hunters are Hunted

**Chapter 14 - The Hunters are Hunted  
** **Ostend, Belgium  
** **(Continued)**

The sudden change from dark to the bright lights of the machines blaring at him seemed to burn Sherlock’s eyes. Nyctalope, however, seemed to be more affected, but he didn’t allow it to become a weakness. He tightened his grip on his arm, at which the detective winced again. That was his scarred arm.   
  
"Ah, now this is a surprise," Zenith remarked, with a stony face, still swinging his leg back and forth as he sat on the crate. Holmes almost couldn’t believe how content he was.  
"Sherlock Holmes," Lupin announced, walking towards his rival. He looked closely at the detective who had meddled in so many of his plans and schemes. The detective was the reason that Lupin was in this group to start with. He was the one adversary of Lupin whom Victoire would lose sleep over, due to her fear that he would catch her son. They were behind schedule as it was and they had to get ahead.  
"Arsène Lupin," he replied with the same tenseness in his voice as the thief.

"How is your arm?” Lupin asked soberly. Zenith couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and lean forward. He could see the tension rising like smoke.  
“The hole you shot into it has healed if that’s what you mean,” Holmes answered, keeping himself dignified.  
Lupin stayed close to the car. “If you have any sense about you, Monsieur, you will leave this well alone. Though we all know that you will not heed my warning.”  
“If I was to walk away whenever I was faced with any danger, I’d never have a case- and this is the most intriguing case which I’d rather not miss out on. I confess I did not expect to find you tied to the Landmark Flags mystery."

Lupin shrugged “Bah, an old story. I fail to see its relevance to now. How did you find us based on all that?”   
Nyctalope spoke up “He’s at it again, Monsieur. Twice now since you’ve been away.”   
A degree of aggravation made its way into Lupin’s frame, but he breathed it out. Now wasn’t the time to discuss this.  
Lupin chuckled to himself. “I see. An intriguing case indeed but I’m afraid this is a game you cannot play. Whether you believe it or not, we’re stood on the right side of the law,” he said.

Holmes stepped forward but Nyctalope stopped him from going any further. “I’m already playing and will continue to do so. You made it my game when you tried to deface England seven years ago.”   
This counter was sent to the French thief with a vengeance, so much so, Lupin’s grin faltered for a moment but it soon returned and widened in fact. But before he could speak, Holmes continued “And I fail to see how the man who you have taken captive,” Holmes gestured to Nemo, “one of ours if I'm not mistaken, is considered legal.”

“You have been busy,” Lupin commented, neglecting to answer.

It took a lot to shake that English detective. Even being in front of some of the most infamous and dangerous people in all France - if not the world, did not throw him. Though Holmes would not allow it to show, the five men around him filled him with frightful awe. The overbearing darkness with the cutting lights of the car created a supernatural glow around the criminals. Holmes’ eyes met Fantômas’s and there was a moment of tense silence, like animals assessing one another preparing to fight.

"Shoot him. Kill him and let’s leave before the police get on our trail. They follow him around like little lost pups so they won't be far behind," Fantômas growled.    
Holmes could not help but notice the way his eyes seemed to glow like coals. The assassin’s hand wandered to the handle of his gun that stuck out of his pocket, stroking it with twitching fingers. 

"No," Lupin objected. "He-"

"Wait," Zenith suddenly beckoned, peering over towards the water. "Look." Nyctalope kept his eyes on Sherlock, but the others looked into the sea that was only mere feet away. It was frothing and bubbling as though it was boiling. Lupin looked straight to Holmes but dismissed whatever idea he had. "Then, what-" Before Lupin could say another word a great eruption occurred in the water beside them. Out of the enormous plume of white water, the Nautilus emerged. Within seconds it was lining up alongside the pier.

"Nyctalope, leave him here. Into the cars, now!" Lupin ordered. A gunshot caused the group of criminals to take cover. Zenith ended up rolling off the crate like tumbleweed and hiding behind it. Nyctalope threw Holmes onto the ground and retreated behind some crates for cover. But he was at the opposite side of the pier to what the cars were.

About a dozen men exited The Swallow once the shot was fired. They were all of Fantômas’ workers. The English Detective scrambled to his feet and fled out of the line of fire. He did not know which side he should consider the greater threat. Robert could only hide behind the open door of the car, which served him as a very useful shield. He also made sure to guard their unconscious prisoner.

The shot had come from the direction of the warehouse. Lupin crawled back towards the cars, keeping an eye out for the mystery gunman. He silently cursed as the saw the bullet had hit the tyre of the car carrying Nemo. They would have to leave that one behind and move Nemo into the other. That meant he needed to buy some time.

Lupin continued. "Champeau, go to the other car and get inside the back, quickly! Zenith, I need you here." Robert Champeau did as instructed, being careful to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. He opened the back door to the other black car and climbed inside. He then kept low and remained unscathed. Zenith had to jump over the top of the crate and dive towards their transportation to avoid injury.

"Cover our escape!" Fantômas ordered his men. He then drew his own gun and disappeared behind the crates, completely out of view.   
"Where are you going?!" Zenith called, but he was already gone.  


Fantômas’ men took positions around the port and began to open fire at the Nautilus as the doors opened. It did not take long for her crew to begin to retaliate and for the League to appear.

With shots hailing down from almost every angle, Lupin and Zenith opened the car door from the other side and lifted him out with utmost care. Nemo was still in a deep sleep and so stayed oblivious to his abrupt rescue attempt. Lupin kept a close eye on him to make sure he didn’t stir. "Keep low," he said to Zenith.  
“I plan to. How has the League found us?!”  
"I don't know, and I don't want to wait around to ask.”

Meanwhile, the League had safely managed to make their way out of the Nautilus. Skinner had discarded his coat on the ramp and was weaving his way through the area, sabotaging enemy guns in any way possible. Sometimes there would be something nearby he could use to swing at the men’s heads from behind. From any gunman that carried one, he stole and discarded one thing: the stake slotted in his belt. That left them open to attack from Mina but it was a slow process.

Lupin could see what the invisible man was doing and set about what he was doing with much more vigour. They needed to hurry. However, he could not help but worry at how zealous Zenith seemed to be about the situation. The man truly was obsessed with action and danger. Despite his excitement, the thief was at least able to not get himself shot as he and Lupin carried Nemo over to the other black car.

Robert helped them to lift Nemo inside the car. Zenith climbed in the back with Nemo and Robert, trapping their prisoner in the middle. Lupin sat in the driver’s seat and waited for Nyctalope to arrive.

By simple math, Lupin could see that they had one extra person. Fantômas or Nyctalope would not fit in the car along with everyone else unless one squeezed in somewhere. But the assassin was nowhere in sight. If he didn’t emerge before his men were defeated then Lupin would have to leave him. It was not Fantômas he was concerned for. It was their youngest member- Nyctalope.    
_ A few more moments, _ Lupin thought to himself. _ Just a few more moments… _

“Come on, Nyctalope!” Lupin shouted, all too aware that time was pressing.

Thanks to Skinner, Mina was overwhelming her enemies. Despite there being so few of them, they were good. They put up a much greater fight against her whenever she went in for the kill. It was fortunate that she was immortal, otherwise, she would have been killed with their struggles.

Hyde was yet to appear. Jekyll was furiously trying to help those wounded by Fantômas’s talented marksmen. He pulled them from the line of fire, have someone else to help him quell the blood loss in a bid to save them before getting to the next crew member.

Jekyll kept an eye out for Sawyer, but he could see no sign of the young spy. Where was he now of all times? They needed their marksman back. A gunshot soon fired from beside him answered his question. Sawyer had gone to get his guns. The League did not expect to find their enemies here. Neither party was prepared for this conflict.

“Nyctalope!” several fearful voices exclaimed, whilst another cried out “Chief!” Jekyll looked up to see what had happened. Sawyer’s aim had been true. It had hit the young man in the chest as he made a dash for the car on the other side of the pier. Once the shot had slammed into him, he crumpled to the ground. One of the young men tried to get out of the automobile to go and help him, but the albino kept him back.

Much to Jekyll’s surprise, the young man struggled to get on all fours. He crawled behind some crates, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He disappeared from sight. Jekyll couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for the young man and the doctor in him hated to witness the waste of life.

_ It doesn’t matter. He’s not one of ours. Let me out so I can fight, _ Hyde insisted. Jekyll pushed him aside in his mind. He had to help the crew first, even if Nemo was in view. He was a doctor first and foremost.

Lupin watched in horror as Nyctalope crumpled to the ground. He froze, watching as he crawled along the floor, paining himself with the movement as he made it into some shelter. Robert tried to get out of the car, but Zenith would not allow it. A sudden bullet whizzing past Lupin's head brought him back into the game.

He had the engine on and drove off in an instant. He had no choice, for otherwise, Champeau would have made his way out of the car to find his friend. Lupin could not risk it and there was hope for Nyctalope yet.

Seeing that they were leaving, Sawyer rushed back inside the Nautilus to get their own automobile. He had no intention of losing Nemo. “Jekyll, with me!”   
More crewmen with medical knowledge had arrived, so, deciding his latest patient was stable enough for someone else to take over, Jekyll hurried to his feet and got into the automobile. It was the first time in action in an automobile.   
  
As quickly and carefully as he could, Sawyer unloaded the automobile and rushed after Nemo.

After driving behind some crates and consequently of the range of fire, Lupin stopped near the water’s edge, a little distance away from the shooting.   
“Lupin, what are you doing? The League will on our tail in a few seconds. Come on!” Zenith exclaimed.   
“What about Nyctalope?! We can’t leave him!” Monsieur Chameau demanded furiously.  
“If we wait for him we’ll be caught!”   
Lupin did not reply, but kept looking around and then glancing back at the white automobile approaching them. It was still a good distance away.   
  
Nemo was sat between the two men with his head drooping to the side. His breathing was a little hastened but not enough for him to wake up and see the chaos around him. Part of Lupin wanted to wait where they were and return the captain. Seeing him in his weakened state only made this feeling escalate. But he couldn't. Not with so much at stake.   
  
Lupin began to smile as he heard the sound of shuffling. He climbed over to the passenger seat, leaving the driver’s seat unoccupied.   
“Have you gone mad?!” Zenith hollered, preparing to move to the front.   
“Wait!” a stray voice managed.   
“Chief?” Robert exclaimed.

At what Zenith felt was the very last moment, Nyctalope staggered into view and sluggishly climbed into the car. Immediately, Nyctalope took up the wheel and was flying along the pier, heading along the shore. Sawyer was close on their heels. The slight delay was worthwhile but Lupin had risked a great deal for his safety. Zenith only hoped that it would pay off. The bullet had lodged itself Nyctalope’s chest, near his heart. Though the wound was shallow, Zenith didn’t know if he could last at the wheel.

The two great machines tore away at the ground, disappearing from sight in an instant. One thing was clear though. The League would not be letting them get away this time…

* * *

**(*A Few Minutes Earlier*)**

Quatermain’s heart rose at the sight of the Nautilus rising out of the water. Ayesha had been right, but now Quatermain had a job to do. He had to stall and help rescue Nemo. The League needed their chance.   
“Keep close and keep down,” he said to Poirot before taking his rifle and firing it at the automobile carrying Nemo. The Belgian detective only just had time to cover his ears.   
  
The wheel hissed as the air escaped out of bullet hole. The hunter quickly moved and changed positions amongst the crates with Poirot following. The other automobile was parked out of his range. The angle would mean standing wide in the open.  
“We must find Monsieur Holmes, he is unarmed," Poirot said.  
“Take this and go and get him. Keep your head low and get back here as soon as you can.” Quatermain handed him a small gun and a nod of reassurance.   
Poirot hesitatingly took the gun and crept away to find his companion.   
  
Quatermain watched as Fantômas disappeared behind the crates. He was headed in the direction that Poirot had gone only moments before. Quatermain thought back to what he had said.  _ Shoot him, kill him before anyone else appears _ . The idea struck the old hunter as hard and sharp as a bullet: Fantômas was going after Sherlock. __

Quatermain looked at the two men who were moving Nemo’s unconscious form. Then he looked in the direction of Sherlock and Poirot. He had a choice to make. Nemo was his priority, but he couldn't let Fantômas sneak up on the others. Sherlock was unarmed and Poirot was by no means the shooting type. Buy the League time or warn the others?    
  
“Bugger.” Quatermain hurried after the two enforcers of the law to help them. It was up to the League to get Nemo for now.

* * *

**(*Meanwhile*)**

Sherlock had managed to take cover amongst a cluster of wooden crates. He didn’t dare look over one with the volume of lead in the air. He was already covered in splinters of wood. The sound of rushed footsteps caught the English detective’s attention. Searching for a makeshift weapon, Sherlock had to settle for a stray plank of wood.   
  
It was lucky that Poirot wasn't injured when Sherlock swung for him. At the last moment, he managed to weaken the force he put into his strike upon recognising who it was. Poirot, fortunately, did not have his finger on the trigger of the gun he carried when the wood struck his arm.

Poirot stumbled back with his gun at the ready. He lowered it when he saw that it was Sherlock.   
“Poirot?! What are you doing here?” Sherlock shouted amongst the hail of gunfire.   
“I came to find you, monsieur. Follow me. We have an ally amongst us who can help.”   


A stray bullet hit the wooden crate they were sheltered behind, covering them in more fragments of wood. Sherlock had to put his arm up to protect himself as best he could. Poirot handed him the gun. “Then let’s get a move on. You lead, Poirot.”

Quatermain could see the two making their way over to him. He could also see the shadowy figure of Fantômas in close pursuit. Quatermain aimed for him, but he hid behind the crates. Gun in his hand, he tried to get a good shot at the two men.  
“Poirot, look out!” Quatermain shouted. 

The Belgian detective turned and saw Fantômas cocking his gun. With a jump of alarm, he grabbed Sherlock by the wrist and dragged him out of the line of fire. Sherlock fired at Fantômas but missed due to Poirot pulling him away.

Quatermain whipped his head around at hearing several fearful shouts. He was relieved to see the League was still fine, it had been Nyctalope. Fantômas began to fire his weapon at Quatermain, who shot back in retaliation.

The gunfire began to focus on the Nautilus and the Automobile that was coming out of it. Sawyer and Jekyll were inside, going after Nemo. That gave the old hunter ample opportunity to move to a better spot with less risk. He made it over to Poirot and Sherlock and continued to shoot at any opposition.

As Sawyer drove off, the hunter could only hope that they would remain unharmed. He hoped with all his might that they got Nemo back. But a rigid feeling of doubt niggled away at his mind. Ayesha wouldn’t revive him just to shoot a tyre and save Poirot and Sherlock, would she? That thought filled him with dread as he fought. No, he had to trust Sawyer’s abilities, besides, he had Jekyll and therefore Hyde with him.

They’d be alright. They had to be.


	15. A Shot in the Dark

**Chapter 15 - A Shot in the Dark  
** **North West Belgium  
** **(Continued)**

If by any chance there had been a civilian passing by as these two mighty machines roared down the road, Jekyll could only imagine their terror. Jekyll didn't even feel as though the wheels of the automobile were touching the ground. The roads were dangerous in the first place as they were only meant for horses and carts. Sawyer was in deep concentration, but the fact they could barely see the automobile in front added to the incredible risk. The doctor couldn't help but cling to the sides of the machine for all he was worth.

"Jekyll, can you shoot?" Sawyer called above the noise as he drove.   
"No, not well enough," he replied. The wind was rattling in his ears, as was the new sound of enemy gunfire.  
Sawyer ducked out of instinct. "Then you'll have to take the wheel when I shoot and then load my guns for me. Can you do that?"

For a moment, Jekyll didn't reply. It was not fear that stopped him, but rather the fact that he didn't know. He had never driven Nemo's invention before. But he had seen Sawyer driving and it didn't look so hard. Jekyll guessed he only needed to keep the wheel still more than anything.  
"Jekyll?" Sawyer called again, louder this time.  
"Yes, I -"

A bullet that bounced off the front of the car interrupted the doctor. Sawyer released the wheel, drew his guns and began to shoot back with a scowl. Jekyll had to dive for the wheel. After an unsteady wiggle of the automobile, she found her rhythm again and continued to fly along the roads.

Once both guns were empty, Sawyer gave Jekyll a handful of bullets out of his pocket and took the wheel again. Jekyll then had to reload the guns. "I can't get a good shot! It keeps moving too much. I can't pip it!" Sawyer explained in frustration.  
"I'd try for the wheels. But be careful- don't forget that Nemo is in there," Jekyll advised, giving Sawyer his guns back and taking the wheel.

_ You should have let me out at the port, we would have caught them there and then, _ Hyde muttered in the back of Jekyll's head.  
_ You would have gotten us killed, there were too many guns and all of them would have been focused on you,  _ Jekyll argued back without a word. He tried to concentrate on the road instead of Hyde's untimely remarks.  
_ You're just trying to play the hero, you don't want me getting involved. I'm not stupid, Henry.  
_ _ No! This will work, it has to. Now shut up so I can concentrate!  _ Jekyll demanded, hoping Hyde would be quiet. Edward did so, though with reluctance.

Taking the empty guns back from Sawyer and swapping places once more, the realisation hit him. What if this didn't work?

* * *

**(*Meanwhile*)**   
  


"Not so sound rude, but how are you even still alive, Nyctalope?" Zenith asked. He casually dodged the bullet sent from Sawyer after sending one himself.  
"The metal in your chest- it must have slowed the bullet," Robert Champeau assumed.  
"It's still bleeding badly though. Champeau, you'll need to check this when we get back to the Albatross. The metal may have split," Lupin grimaced. He took a handkerchief and pressed it onto Nyctalope’s chest whilst he was driving. It was far from perfect but it was better than nothing.

Nyctalope winced through gritted teeth as he drove. "I'll be fine for now. Zenith, I need you to get them off our tail. Even if it didn't get my heart, I can feel the bullet is still in me."  
"Keep your breathing steady," Champeau advised. He leant forwards in the back seat behind Lupin to try to see how bad the injury was.

The wound was paining him but he focused on the road ahead. Nyctalope was the best option to drive. The headlights enabled him to only see a few feet in front. Yet his enhanced eyesight meant he could see in what felt like pure daylight. The darkness no longer bothered him, he thrived in it, giving him advantages that no one else possessed. It was the loss of blood that was beginning to affect him, his vision was starting to swim. He had to keep blinking hard to clear his vision.

Zenith fired four more shots. None hit their mark, the lights of the Automobile blinded him and the moving target made it even harder. As if in retaliation, the white machine began to get closer, causing the strength of the light to intensify.

The light and the noise of the gunshots encouraged Nemo to begin to wake up from his deep sleep. He found himself between two men. One was Monsieur Zenith, and he did not know the second, nor the driver for that matter. Nemo’s mind felt clouded, the result of drugs. His brain took its time in registering what was happening. He turned to see what Zenith was shooting at. An Automobile, the League- his friends!

Filled with hope, Nemo dived at Zenith, reaching for the gun. Even with Nemo's hands tied, Zenith was taken by surprise. The gun fell out of his hands and onto the floor by his feet. "Champeau, grab him!" Lupin exclaimed in the front passenger seat. Champeau was already taking Nemo by the arms and yanking him backwards, away from Zenith.

As soon as he fell backwards, Champeau wrapped one arm around his neck and the other was on his chest. Champeau’s strength was startling, but he was trying to be careful to not hurt his ribs. Those were not Nemo’s priority. He tried his best but could not overpower the man who held him down. He didn’t have the strength to sit up and it was much harder with bound hands. Champeau was just too strong. "Let...go!" Nemo snarled, struggling against him. Champeau held on tight to his wrists with one hand. Elbows did little. He could only kick, and he used that liberty well.

"Don't let go, Robert. Zenith, get them off our backs, now!" Nyctalope instructed, though more harshly. He was becoming more desperate as blood escaped his body. Lupin was trying his best to stop the bleeding, but it was still slipping through his fingers.

The car behind them rapidly began to pick up the pace whilst they had been distracted by Nemo. Jekyll was beginning to transform into his darker counterpart. It looked like they had thought of a new plan whilst the roads were turning into a larger width. Hyde was going to jump onto their car.

"Lupin, shoot the tyres. You've got one bullet, a better chance and a better aim," Zenith ordered, picking the revolver up from the floor and holding it out to him, out of Nemo's reach. He grunted as Nemo kept kicking him.  
"I can't do it- I'm busy," he exclaimed. There was something wrong in his voice. Zenith didn't know what, but it was as if a child had spoken for a moment, a hitch in his voice. But what was it? Why would he not shoot?

Whatever it was would have to wait. "You've got two hands, Arsène, now take the shot before they catch us!" Zenith demanded, glancing to the side to see Hyde almost fully transformed. He could hear Jekyll's yells of pain turning into Hyde's voice, the deeper tone like thunder as they raced along the roads.  
"I can't! I- Nyctalope!"

Nyctalope had almost fallen asleep at the wheel and bumped into the automobile next to them. The sudden jolt seemed to cause Lupin to snap out of his reluctance. He snatched the gun and used it to knock out the window beside him. He then fired it cleanly into a back tyre as Hyde was standing up to jump.

"No!" Nemo roared. Nemo continued to struggle. His efforts doubled so much that Zenith had to help pin him down. The Automobile slowed down as Sawyer stomped on the brake. They lost all control and slipped off the path, rolling over and crashing with a gut-wrenching clatter.

Nemo froze in Champeau's grip. His chest was rising and falling like a blacksmith's bellows. His broken rib burned, and he knew he'd set himself back in recovery. He focused on the anger instead of the grief that tried to get into his mind.  
"What have you done?" His voice solidified as he barked “Why?!”  
Lupin couldn’t look at him. "I did what I had to."

The bombardment of noise suddenly stopped, leaving them in dead silence, save for the crunching of the gravel beneath the wheels. Champeau did not let go of Nemo, who was trying to reach up to see Sawyer and Hyde. He only released the captain when the car drew to a halt a few seconds later. Nemo stared out the window, desperate for a sign of life.

"I... I can't keep... going," Nyctalope murmured, going limp in his seat.

Lupin rushed to catch him. "Hai! Easy, Leo, easy. It's alright, you've done well..." Lupin soothed as the young man fell to the side. He pushed Nyctalope against the chair as he fell forwards. Champeau leaned forward to support Nyctalope's head as he slipped into deep unconsciousness. Lupin continued in a quieter tone "Zenith, help me get Nyctalope into the back so Champeau can see to this wound. Champeau, you'll have to tie Nemo's hands to the back of my chair. Zenith can drive."

The instructions were carried out as quickly as possible. Lupin and Zenith carried Nyctalope over to the back. Nemo remained silent. As Champeau bound him to the headrest, he tried to see if anyone was coming towards them… nothing… Nemo prayed with all his might that his friends were not harmed in a bid to save him. 

At least with any luck, Jekyll would be there eventually to help. Hyde was a bit more durable, and Nemo felt a little less worried for him at first. But then he stopped himself mid-thought. When Hyde had been fighting in Mongolia against Dante and even with the two copies of Hyde on the Nautilus, he had struggled. Could Edward Hyde really survive such a crash? Could Sawyer?

He feared he’d never find out.

* * *

**(*A Few Minutes Earlier*)**

Struggling to maintain his balance, Hyde watched as the man in the front took the gun in one hand and fired. He kept the other hand on the driver's chest. Hyde could see the blood flowing through his fingers and liked the sight. Nemo was in the back, pinned although unscathed.

The bullet hit the tyre. Hyde hardly had time to grab onto the automobile. It began to fling itself side to side. Hyde could see the fear etched on Sawyer's face as he struggled to gain control of the vehicle. There was no grip on the gravel.

In that split second, time slowed. He found himself with two choices. Hyde could dive for the enemy car and save Nemo, which would mean Sawyer's likely demise. Or he could use himself as a shield to try to save Sawyer and waste their chance to save Nemo and exact revenge.

It wasn't as hard as he thought to decide.

As the automobile shuddered it flipped, catching on something on the road. Hyde didn't see. He had already pulled Sawyer from his seat and covered him with his body. Sawyer was too stunned to even react. They hit the ground hard but were safe from the metal. It flipped and rolled over several times, tangling in a field of wheat. The machine was sturdy and did not break too much as it came to a rest on its side.

When Hyde came to a stop after rolling a good few feet, he let go of Sawyer who fell off his chest. He didn't get up. Hyde grunted as he tried to get to his feet but failed. The skin on his back was scraped and bloodied. It stung, especially on his shoulders, but he blocked it out. He had more important things to tend to and he had always had a high pain tolerance. He knew Jekyll would be sore in the morning though.

Hyde looked up at the fleeing car. He could see Nemo in the back of the car, straining to look at him, appearing furious… and frightened.  _ Edward, you must see to Sawyer. Put him in the car and push it back to the port. It's not far and we may need this automobile later _ .    
“Shut up, Jekyll-” Hyde began.   
_ No, Sawyer needs your help more than Nemo right now. At least we know Nemo is alive. Sawyer may not be so fortunate. We've lost our chance, I’m sorry. _

With a growl of annoyance, Hyde looked over to Sawyer, leaning in close.   
_ He's unconscious, but I can't tell if anything is broken, _ Jekyll said. Hyde could not help but feel somewhat relieved.

With slow movements, Hyde got back up to his feet and approached the now broken Automobile. It was intact, save for the dents and broken glass. Hyde could still push it along the road, even with the broken tyre. Hyde had to be quick, the formula would only last so long and Jekyll wouldn't be able to push this. He was too feeble and pathetic to do it alone anyway.

Using brute strength he managed to turn the car back onto its wheels and push it towards Sawyer, who still hadn't moved from where he had been left. Hyde then very carefully picked Sawyer up and put him into the automobile, so he was lying down on the back seats. Much to their surprise, no bones seemed broken. There was a little blood flowing down his forehead, but Jekyll was not too concerned yet.

_ Come, time is ticking. _ Jekyll cautioned.  
“What about Nemo?” Hyde snapped back. He could almost feel Jekyll flinch inside of him.  
_ We'll get him back, Edward, I promise. The sooner we get back to the port, the faster we can get back to finding Nemo. _

Jekyll's answer seemed to satisfy Hyde enough into pushing the back of the broken white automobile along the road with all haste. They were fortunate that this automobile was not designed with a roof. It meant Hyde could push whilst Jekyll could still see his upcoming patient.

Jekyll could see the blood escaping the broken skin on his head. There was a bit of a lump beginning to form where the injury had swelled. The doctor felt hopeful for Sawyer as he tried to wake up.

At first, he was mumbling inaudible words. But the more he continued, the easier it was for them to make it out. He was calling out for Nemo… and for Hyde.  
"Sawyer," Hyde said with surprising softness. “Wake up.”

Wincing, Sawyer dragged himself up so that he was in a sitting position. Hyde offered to help, but Sawyer gently brushed him aside. "I'm alright… I'll be fine. Where's Nemo? What happened? Are you alright? You're bleeding."  
"It’s fine,” Hyde ground out. “They shot at us and we crashed.”  
Sawyer winced, letting his memories return to him. “Thank you, for saving me back there. I’d have been a goner without you.” Sawyer was sure he saw Hyde show a flicker of a smile.

_ Tell him we saw Nemo  _ Jekyll said.  
“I saw Nemo. He looks healed."  
"Well, I guess that is better than nothing," Sawyer sighed. Hyde could see Sawyer's spirits were far from lifted by the results. 

Hyde was furious and it wasn’t really in his nature to stop himself from lashing out. But, taking the pain in his back into account, he decided to just push the automobile, putting a lot of energy into it.  
Sawyer took hold of the sides. “You want me to help push?”  
“Stay,” Hyde said flatly. “Rest.”

Hyde made it most of the way back before he could feel himself slipping away as if being dragged back down the drain. He could feel the scales tipping as Jekyll almost reluctantly began to rise back to the top. The pain began to make itself known as the physical transformation began. He felt as though he was being crushed like a metal can as his body twisted back into its original form. Hyde roared and bellowed throughout until finally the pain died down and he felt as though he had settled under the water. He always hated transforming.

Left in Hyde's place was Dr Jekyll once again. Sawyer reached up to steady him and guided him towards the automobile. Jekyll leaned against the automobile as he struggled to catch his breath. The entire process took less than a minute.  
“You good?” Sawyer asked.  
Jekyll nodded as he panted. He ripped the useless tatters of his shirt from his body and threw them into the automobile. His back was burning from his time as Hyde. He carried the same injuries Hyde had possessed. It was a lot of pain to have to work with. He hissed. Gravel rash was bad enough, but this was almost enough to make him cry.

Their new plan had not worked as hoped. Sawyer knew he would struggle to hit the tyres of the opposing automobile without being hit themselves or hurting Nemo. Hyde had made the suggestion of giving him a chance once again; all they had to do was get close enough.

"Good try, Edward. You did well. I had faith in your plan but we knew that it was supported by chance. But, at least we could see Nemo again and know he's alive. He is looking a lot better than the last time we saw him. That will give the others some hope at least," Jekyll said out loud.  
_ When I get my hands on those responsible, they will not be in such a pleasing condition as Nemo now is. I want blood, Henry. Blood! I will not allow them to get away with this.  
_ "I know, and I'm almost tempted to let you have your way."

Hyde remained silent in what was hopefully agreement.

Jekyll noticed Sawyer winced and rubbed his head. He was making his leg bounce as a way of dealing with the pain.  
“Let me check on that.” Gritting his teeth, Jekyll climbed over the side door so he was sitting beside Sawyer. He moved over and looked at the injury on the agent's head. All things considered, it wasn't that bad but it was enough to be a concern.  
"Take it easy," Jekyll said. “Tell me if your vision is blurring or anything like that. I think you know what’s good and what’s not.”  


"I. I’m a little dizzy. Let's get back to the others. How far away are we from the port?"   
"It's not far now, I don’t think. If we leave the automobile for now, Nemo's men can help us to get it back. We can't do it alone and you aren't in any shape to be straining yourself so soon," the doctor replied.  
"Neither are you," Sawyer remarked soberly.

Sawyer’s head was pounding and he doubted he could walk in a straight line. He picked his way out of the automobile and leaned against the side.  
"We'll have to get going. It'd be better if no one saw us or we'll end up with a crowd," Sawyer explained. Jekyll nodded and also exited the automobile.

They were a sorry sight, for both had to help each other. Sawyer felt like he was helping Jekyll more, but he wasn't sure about how much support Jekyll was giving him. His head was swimming. Step by uneven step, they began the small trek back to the port.

* * *

**(*A Short While Later*)**

The gunfight had continued for only a short time after Jekyll and Sawyer had left. The number of enemies reduced quickly. Mina had dealt with the majority of them, but she was sure there had someone else shooting at the enemy. She wasn't sure who. When the conflict was finished, she cleaned herself up discreetly, though she remained on high alert.

The heavy sound of shuffling feet and strained breathing attracted the group's attention. Mina was ready to attack, but she froze upon seeing who it was. Jekyll and Sawyer were supporting one another though Jekyll needed more help, with a bloody and ragged back. Sawyer looked off balance and had blood in his hair. There was no automobile in sight… and no Nemo.

Sawyer kept his head down to the ground. As though he was not yet ready to look up to the League and admit his failure.

"Jesus, Joseph, and Mary! What happened?" Skinner exclaimed as he finished the last button on his coat.   
"We were so close… but it was no good. We crashed," Sawyer muttered, looking at Jekyll wincing. His injuries were paining him more as the cool air got to them.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mina noticed an injured figure near a crate was raising his gun.  
"Skinner, look-"    
A shot rang out along the port.

Skinner stood in shock, patting himself down for an injury. There was none; instead, the gunman was dead. Mina whipped her head around in alarm to see a small dispersing cloud of smoke that had come from the gun.

"You missed one of the buggers," a gruff and yet all too familiar voice said, stepping forward.

There he stood. The great white hunter - revived from the dead. As though he had never been killed by James Moriarty. As though they had never had to bury him. As though the League had never grieved…

"Quatermain..." Sawyer breathed.   
"Hello again, lad."


	16. Investigations

**Chapter 16 - Investigations  
** **Ostend, Belgium  
** **(Continued)**

For almost a whole minute the entire League stood and stared at the hunter. There were no gasps, no exclamations- nothing but silence and shock. It was clear the hunter didn’t like his current situation so he decided to speak up. “Are you all going to stand there gawking for the rest of the day?”  
“You’re… you’re alive...” Skinner’s voice faltered.

Quatermain nodded and looked behind him. "Holmes, Poirot, it's safe to come out now." The two men emerged from the stacks of crates and came to stand near Quatermain.

The League very well may have continued to stare for hours more had Jekyll not developed a sudden weakness in his legs. Sawyer wobbled as he tried to keep him upright. Skinner and Mina were quick to step in and help.  
“I’ve got him,” Skinner strained, “Come on, let’s get you inside,” Skinner said, taking Jekyll from the young agent and leading him into the Nautilus. As they went inside, Ishmael came out. Jekyll caught Ishmael by the arm and said something to him. Quatermain couldn’t hear the conversation and he saw both the relief and disappointment in his frame.

Mina had to steady Sawyer and made him sit down on a nearby crate until his swimming vision settled. Sawyer never looked away from the hunter. Sawyer’s eyes grew wide and his lips moved as though to make a noise but no words came. Quatermain leaned against his gun with both hands, unsure of whether he should help. He didn’t know if Sawyer would accept him or shun him away. Seeing a smile emerging on his lips did at least give him some comfort.

“You alright, lad?” he asked, looking down to his gun and back up.  
Though still in utter amazement, the young agent replied, “I’m not the only one seeing this, am I?”  
“No, Sawyer,” Mina smiled, casting a long glance in Quatermain’s direction, as though she struggled to believe it herself. “He's back.”

“H-how are you… But you- Hang on a second, I need a minute to figure this… How are you back?”  
Quatermain could not help but chuckle. He had never seen Sawyer looked as dazed as he did now. Sawyer ran his hand through his hair to move it out of his face.  
Quatermain said, “Explanations will have to wait for now. As good as it is to see you all, there is some business which needs taken care of.”  
“Uh-huh,” Sawyer breathed, beginning to come to terms with Quatermain's revival. The sight of the young man not trying to push him away lifted a world of dread from the hunter’s shoulders. He hadn’t lost Sawyer.

Quatermain noticed that a small group of Nemo’s men went in the direction that Sawyer and Jekyll had come from. It looked like Ishmael had given them some instructions. He guessed they'd gone to get the missing automobile.

Sawyer tried to get Mina to leave his head injury, but there was no chance of that happening. It didn't take long for him to give up and allow Mina to check it over. It was not the fact she was a vampire that made him reluctant to receive help. He would just rather she went to help one of Nemo’s crew, instead of an injury he sustained by failing in his mission. Besides, Jekyll had already seen to him.

“So... you know about Nemo?” Sawyer asked Quatermain. Sherlock stepped closer to Quatermain, seeing the opportunity to get his own answers. "And what brings you to Belgium?" he inquired.  
"Oui, today has been most eventful, but we have many more questions than answers. It may be possible that you have the answers we require," Poirot interjected.  
"We too have many questions," Mina said, almost finished with checking Sawyer’s head. Quatermain could tell that despite the vagueness in the statement, Mina had directed what she had said to him.

“To explain everything, we’d have to go back to when the League first formed in July. We haven’t got the time for all that,” Quatermain grumbled, feeling quite bombarded with it all. "As for how I'm alive, the witch doctor was right. Africa did not allow me to die... instead, she sent me to help you."

"I know who you are, and I can explain that to Monsieur Poirot later. But I was unaware you had been given an assignment. I was not expecting to see you here," Sherlock explained.  
"And how would you know all that? Who are you?" Sawyer challenged.  
Though the outburst was unexpected, he did have a valid point. The League had to be careful - they could only trust who they knew until more information rose to the surface.

"I am a detective. I have a relative working within the government. I learned of your existence once you stopped Moriarty, for which I am grateful for," Sherlock explained.  
"It’s alright, Sawyer. This is Sherlock Holmes and this is Hercule Poirot. Poirot is part of the Belgian police force. You can trust them," Quatermain explained, looking at the two men who stood before him.

Sawyer nodded, though he still didn’t look completely sure.    
“Holmes, what case were you following that led you to us?” Quatermain asked before the silence could befall them. He leaned against the rifle that had been left by his grave meer months ago. The rifle left by Sawyer. The very boy who he had taken in like a son and was now so thrilled to see again. But being properly reunited would have to wait; this was about Nemo, not them.

“I was trying to uncover The Mystery of the Landmark Flags. I was looking into who was placing the flags that were materialising all over the world-”  
“What did you find?” Sawyer asked. He stood up from the crate now that he could find his feet and Mina was willing to move on to helping someone else. The sudden movement made him feel light-headed but he was too eager for answers over Nemo’s capture to care. Sherlock was currently their best lead.  
“We found out what was responsible for the flags. It was, as unbelievable as it seems, a flying ship,” Sherlock answered, though it was clear he did not expect to be believed.  
“No, trust me, we believe it. Did the Albatross come this way- the ship?” Sawyer questioned.

“Not exactly, mon ami, but that other machine did. We decided to follow it once we had found that the… ‘Albatross’ had landed,” Poirot explained. Sherlock took to searching some of the bodies, but there was no sign of anything useful. The Belgian officer gestured to the black automobile which Ishmael was currently inspecting. Once it was fixed and the tyre replaced, it could still be used. So far it seemed the first mate hadn’t even noticed Quatermain was there.

“How the bloody hell did they get hold of an automobile?! I thought Nemo was the only one with them,” Quatermain exclaimed.  
“We don’t know. We had no idea that they even had one,” Sawyer answered. Sawyer looked over to Quatermain and cast him a flicker of a smile, but he soon forced himself to concentrate on more important matters again.

“Perhaps we should inspect the ship?” Poirot suggested. Quatermain looked up to the very ship Nemo had been carried away on. It was an impressive size and looked like it did in his vision. It was armour-plated, a way of protecting the wood from bullets no doubt.

Quatermain looked at Sawyer and nodded. Three of the men then made their way over to the ship and climbed inside. Quatermain hesitated. Mina was looking at the hunter once more from a distance. She was on the ramp of the Nautilus. She gave a gentle smile, inclining her head slightly. Seemingly this was her private way of saying ‘welcome back’. Quatermain nodded, touching the brim of his hat.

Mina smiled, adjusted her scarf and headed inside the Nautilus to help Nemo’s men. There was the slightest of springs in her steps, barely noticeable, but Quatermain could see it. Deciding it best, he climbed aboard The Swallow. 

It was good to finally be back.

“Oh, my stomach,” Poirot groaned.  
“You’ve only been on the ship for a few seconds, Poirot. You’ll be fine,” Sherlock grinned, puffing away on his pipe. They then descended a few stairs to come to the main room and a few other rooms, which was shut away behind a door. They didn't expect to find that there was water on the floor, at about ankle depth.

“They’ve scuttled it,” Sawyer exclaimed.  
“Then we’ll have to be quick,” Quatermain muttered.

The first room had been stripped of the things of the highest value or importance. There was only a wooden box and basic furniture left behind. A few pieces of paper were lying about on the table but they were yet to look into the next few rooms.

Quatermain and Poirot went into the other rooms, hoping to be more fortunate with their findings. The other few rooms were also completely empty - stripped of anything valuable they once held. Even though the ship was destined to sink very shortly, whoever owned this boat was taking no chances in leaving evidence behind.

“So those other people in the automobile, who were they? I never got a good look at ‘em,” Sawyer asked as he looked around the room for anything that was hidden, trying to see something that would help their case. His head was hurting, but he needed to stay awake. He also wanted answers to the many questions that flew through his mind.

“They were some of the greatest criminals in the world,” Sherlock said as he lifted the lid on a wooden chest. It contained first aid supplies, which had almost been exhausted.

"Such as? We know a lot of those. We could do with specifics," Sawyer remarked half-heartedly as he watched Sherlock take something out of the box... a blue tattered shirt- once belonging to Nemo. It was covered in blood. Sawyer guessed it was the one he wore when he was captured.

Sawyer was about to speak about it, but Sherlock answered “Arsène Lupin and Monsieur Zenith - both infamous gentleman thieves. Their cunning can rarely be challenged but they aren’t too dangerous. They’re not the ones you need to worry about. There was also Fantômas. He is lethal and even the most intelligent would struggle to outwit him. There were also new names amongst them, Nyctalope was one of them. From what I was able to determine, he can see in the dark. I am unsure of the other, Robert Champeau. He seemed ordinary- perhaps a medical practitioner.”

"Well, they must be able to hold their own if they're with the rest of them," Sawyer said.

Whilst Sherlock had been talking, Skinner had made his way onto the ship after helping Jekyll inside the Nautilus. He was clothed and painted so everyone could see where he was. He stood halfway down the stairs, where he waited. “Hang on. I think they’re all French, and somehow I don’t think it’s a coincidence,” he pointed out.

Sawyer looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Was the thief onto something?

“What are you all doing anyway?” he added.  
“Trying to find a lead,” Sawyer replied.   
“You’d better take it easy, mind. I don’t want you passing out on me like Jekyll almost did," Skinner said.  
“Hyde had a rough fall,” Sawyer answered, waving off Skinner’s concerns for himself.

“Mr Skinner?” Sherlock inquired, brow furrowed.  
“Allo, Sherlock. Still meddling in other people's business I see,” he grinned.  
“Wait, you know each other?” Sawyer interjected.  
“We've known each other for years. He met me on a case. It was good fun, don't you think?”

“If solving all your thefts is considered fun, then yes. It has been a long time indeed. You look… different.”  
Skinner laughed. “That's because I don't ‘look’ anything. I wound up turning myself invisible. It's not as great as they think.”  
Sherlock seemed somewhat taken aback, but murmured “I see.”

Finding the strength in his voice Sherlock continued “You were saying about there not being a coincidence- what makes you think that?”    
“There’s another one called Jean Robur whose name has gotten involved in all this. We don't know if he’s still alive. Not to be presumptive or anything but for him to have a French-sounding name and his ship to play the Chant du Depart. That can’t down to chance- we aren't that lucky.”

“Robur?” Sherlock said. “We overheard that someone under that name had received a message from Lupin.” Skinner’s gaze shot up towards Sawyer. Things weren’t looking good.  
Skinner cringed. “So now either he’s alive, or he’s got a relative. Ishmael’s not going to take that news well.”

"You don’t suppose other countries are following suit, do you? Making their own Leagues?" Sawyer suggested.    
“If the French Government have any sense about them, then they would not be letting their League fight our own. It would put neither nation in a good position, not with a potential war looming. I doubt you know what they want Nemo for at this point?” Quatermain pointed out. Sawyer shook his head. ”It might just be for revenge,” Quatermain added.

Poirot returned from his brief and fruitless search of a room. "Messieurs, do not forget who is in their company. Arsène Lupin would not allow anyone to kill out of revenge. He does not commit such atrocities himself and would not permit anyone else to do so,” Poirot justified thoughtfully.  
"I’m pretty sure he’s the one with the moustache and he sure didn’t seem so bothered about killing when he was shooting at us. He almost killed Hyde - and me come to think of it," Sawyer grumbled.

"He has a good aim on him. He could have shot you in the head and had done with it. Lupin won’t kill - that doesn't mean he won’t break skin and bone. Besides, this friend you’re looking for seemed quite unharmed when we saw him," Sherlock said.  
“Well, that's something at least,” Skinner said. “But I’m not trusting Nemo’s welfare with some cocky little thief.”

Sherlock looked to see if the wooden chest held any more answers like a secret compartment or an extra lock. He found nothing.

Sawyer went into the final room to see what he could find. When he first opened the door he was met with more water. He ignored it and went inside. After a few minutes, he returned triumphantly with a small but heavy box. It was locked with a hefty padlock. The water in that room was much deeper and had so gushed out into the rest of the rooms. Their shoes and half of their shins were surrounded by water. Poirot grumbled at the condition of his clothes.

“Let’s grab whatever you can see and get out of here before we end up taking on too much water. I can feel the ship tilting and I don't fancy being fish food,” Skinner said. Sherlock lifted up the small chest and took it off the ship, in case it still held some precious answers. Poirot followed him, more than eager to leave. Sawyer carried the box he had found. Quatermain was about to leave but decided to pick up the few bits of paper on the table- just in case.

With that, the League abandoned The Swallow to her fate.


	17. The Mysterious Men

**Chapter 17 - The Mysterious Men** **  
** **Ostend, Belgium  
** **(Continued)**

The Swallow was gone. Now all that could be done was to understand the clues she had left. Setting the box down upon some crates, Sawyer found he couldn’t get into the box. It was too big for a gun to break without damaging the weapon.  
“Can anyone pick a lock?” he asked.  
“Course I can,” Skinner said. “I’ll just need a pick. I’ve got one in my room.” It took a while for him to return. During that time, Sherlock had given up on his box, deciding there was nothing more to it in this light- nothing useful at least. He lit his pipe and began to smoke.

Back and armed with his lock pick, Skinner was able to make easy work on the secured box. When the lock gave away, the thief opened the lid.  
“Nothing to it,” he grinned, looking inside.  
“More paperwork,” Sawyer couldn’t help but grumble to himself, a smile tugging at the side of his lip. It was full of paper and rocks- no doubt to make sure the documents sank. 

He and Quatermain, with a newly purchased pair of spectacles, could begin to look through them for any information. Through the corner of his eye, Quatermain saw Sawyer struggling not to stare up at the hunter. A shy smile made its way onto his face. Quatermain pretended not to notice.

The results were quite disappointing. It was all just maps, plans, specifications and a couple of pencils. They were the documents from where the Frenchmen had planned their first attack on the Nautilus. These were of little use to them now, as the plans had already been carried out.  
“They've had blueprints for the Nautilus!” Sawyer exclaimed. “How did they get hold of these?”  
“Maybe from Moriarty?” Skinner guessed.

Quatermain spotted something. "Something hasn't gone to plan. According to these, they should have left Europe weeks ago," he mused, passing one of the documents to Sherlock to look through.  
"It must have been something significant. All three of them like to keep to their plans," Sherlock added.

Sawyer thought out loud "So why didn't they?"

Skinner walked over and looked over Quatermain's shoulder and to the document in his hand. He held the lock from the box and was playing with it in his hands. He thought back to the attack on the Nautilus and what was said.   
_ Fantômas, you were not supposed to wound him. _ _   
_ _ I had no choice. _ _   
_ "Because they didn't want Nemo injured..." he muttered. "They'll have had to wait until they could move Nemo. Of course! That’s how we‘ve been able to catch up to them.”

"You two were there from the beginning. Nemo came separately from the others, didn't he? Did the others say anything about a change of plan?" Sawyer asked. The two enforcers of the law nodded. His chest fizzled with excitement. The trail was no longer warm but smoking hot. This was the progress he had been needing for weeks.

“Yes,  _ mon amis _ , and they seemed agitated by it. Fantômas and Lupin were particularly frustrated to the point of arguing,” Poirot answered.  
“So we've caught up with them and know who we’re up against, but how do we know where they're going next?” Skinner asked.  
“We don't,” Quatermain said. “There's nothing amongst these plans which can help us either.”

Sherlock decided not to look at the paperwork Sawyer had collected for the time being. He went over to Quatermain and the blank paper he had retrieved. “These papers were in a pile on the table. The table wasn't very smooth and so writing would be difficult without something to rest on. There were pencils in that crate so they most likely would have written with those. That means, due to the movement of the water no doubt, the writer of this note was heavy-handed to make his words distinct,” he muttered to himself. “Mr Quatermain, may I look at these?”

Quatermain looked at Sherlock. The hunter could see Sherlock was onto something and eager to see if any answers would materialise. As soon as the hunter passed them to him, he scanned every page, front and back until he found what he was looking for. There were grooves in the paper where something had been written on a different page. “It is too indistinct to read, but I may still be able to salvage something.”

“And how are you going to do that, Sherlock? Get your magnifying glass?” teased Skinner.  
“No, Mr Skinner. I have a better idea,” the detective smirked. Sherlock lay the paper on the floor and covered it with the driest, dustiest dirt he could find. No one present spoke, but all were baffled by what he was doing. When the detective pulled the piece of paper out of the mud, several words were clearer.

“Now, I can use my magnifying glass.”  
“Very funny, now come on, what does it say?”  
“Plans have been finalised… shell ready to... bird… Hommes Mystérieux…. fall... sister… at nest. Unfortunately, that is all I can make of it.”

“Well, that makes no sense whatsoever,” Skinner remarked.

“On the contrary, this does have some significance if you break it apart. I overheard that relative of mine talking about a group called Les Hommes Mystérieux. I was unaware however of who was actually part of the group or their purpose,” Sherlock explained.  
“Means Mysterious Men, doesn't it?... I can see Lupin and Zenith joining something like that. Sounds like their style, Fantômas would take a little more persuasion. Looks like we've got ourselves a bit of a problem,” said Skinner.

“So they are the French answer to our League?” Sawyer wondered, not looking up from a map he was scanning, trying to see if there were any more hints. “Holmes, can read out those words again please.” The detective did so, slower this time.

“Nemo could be the shell, it makes sense with the Nautilus and all,” Sawyer muttered.  
“Robur’s ship is called the Albatross, which is a bird - and sister could mean the League?” Skinner suggested.  
“And then there’s ‘nest’ which is evidently where they are hiding,” Sherlock deducted.

“But what about ‘fall’? Do they mean as in the season or actually falling?” Sawyer asked.

“They are European. I'd expect it would mean physically falling and not its alternative meaning. Most here would say autumn,” Sherlock answered.

Sawyer groaned out loud and covered his face, knowing where all this was leading. “Let's hope it's not us they want to be falling,” he said to himself. He looked up to see one of the older crew members, Pavan. He was third in command of the Nautilus but was now the acting first mate whilst Ishmael took up the role of Captain.

Sawyer got up and approached him. “Pavan, have you been with Nemo since… well, the beginning?”  
Pavan cleared his throat. “Yes, Mr Sawyer," he answered quietly.   
“I’m sorry to ask, but I need to know where Robur’s old stronghold was. I have a map with me. Would you point it out to me, please?” Sawyer asked.  
"Yes, sir," he said hesitantly.

Sawyer went over to the map on the crate and Pavan followed. Sawyer had known Pavan ever since he had first stepped on the ship. He was a considerate, warm man, who always seemed to want to help whenever he could.

As he rubbed his beard, he scanned the map. He ran his finger along it - past all Africa and into the Indian ocean before stopping. “Here, Kerguelen Island. Though Robur called it ‘Island X’.”   
“Well, I would have never seen that. It's tiny!” Skinner remarked.

“Won’t be tiny when you’re stood on it,” Quatermain muttered.

It was then that the party of crew members who had left to retrieve their damaged Automobile returned. The extent of the damage did not escape the League’s notice. Sawyer decided to try to act as though it wasn’t there. He said “Thank you, Pavan. I need to find Ishmael and tell him where we need to go. Has anyone seen him?”   
“He went over to the other automobile, sir. I expect him still to be there,” Pavan answered.

With a nod of gratitude, Sawyer headed towards the black automobile left by the Frenchmen.

“Ishmael?” he called. There was no reply. Not even a movement. “Ishmael?” he repeated, louder this time, hoping the first mate was nearby. Sawyer could not help but feel ill at ease. By this point, the others were also becoming curious over his manner and began to approach.

Sawyer walked around to the other side of the automobile, but he was not there. There were signs of a struggle. One of the windows, broken by a stray bullet, had been smashed further. There were also drag marks in the dirt. “Ishmael!” he bellowed once more.   
“Sawyer, what is it? What’s going on?” Skinner pressed.   
“He’s not here. Something’s not right; I don’t like it. Quatermain, can you take a look?”

“Did he not go to fetch the other automobile?” Quatermain asked, looking over to Sawyer and Jekyll’s broken automobile as the crew loaded it onto the Nautilus. He was not amongst the group of men.   
“You think someone grabbed him while we were on the Swallow?” Skinner asked.   
Sawyer grimaced, “Surely someone would have seen that or even heard that but...”   


Quatermain crouched over the marks in the dirt, trying to read their story. He let his fingertips brush off the floor. He was quiet for a moment. “Grabbed from behind judging by the shuffling. You can see where he tried to find his feet. Ishmael wouldn’t have had much chance of getting someone’s attention. Fantômas never got in the other automobile with the others. He could be about,” Quatermain scowled, standing and loading his gun.

Sherlock looked at what was becoming a crime scene in front of them. He studied it wordlessly.   
“Pavan, you’re sure you saw him here?” Sawyer asked.   
“I’m certain, sir.”

“I’ll have a look around, see if I can find him,” Sawyer said, his guns at the ready.  
“I doubt you will find anything,” Sherlock said with his eyes closed. He appeared to be in deep concentration. “Look, on the back seat.”

Sawyer opened the back door and retrieved its contents. It was Ishmael’s waistcoat and he rarely, if ever, took it off. As Sawyer pulled it off the seat, a bit of material fell from it - it was another one of Robur’s flags, not much larger than the one in the library.

“Damn it!” Sawyer barked, slamming the door shut, knocking more glass out of the window.   
Quatermain could see the agent clutching onto the waistcoat so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Skinner, go have a quick look for him. Take your coat off. They can’t have gotten far. If you can’t find him after a few minutes you’ll have to come back. They’ll take him to the Albatross with Nemo no doubt,” Quatermain said.

“We need to know if Robur is alive,” Sawyer said, directing his anger to the flag. “We need to know what we’re up against!”  
Sherlock turned to Pavan “Would Jean Robur still be the Captain of the Albatross if he were alive?”  
“Yes, sir,” Pavan replied.   
“No relatives?”   
“None that I’m aware of, but I knew little of him. I was an engineer.”

“What did he look like?” Sherlock continued.    
Pavan made a sour face. “It has been a long time since I laid eyes on that man. He had a large frame to him, broad powerful shoulders. At the time he had a smaller beard-”   
“A goatee?” Sherlock suggested. Pavan nodded and swallowed hard. 

“Grey uniform?”  
Another nod.  
“What kind of mannerisms did he have? His posture and so on?”  
“He almost always had his hands behind his back when he stood or walked. He had a very noble look to him… until you truly met him,” Pavan added.

Sherlock looked at the others in grim confirmation. “It is not the strongest description, but I saw a man fitting that description exactly. I heard the name Robur said in conversation and with no apparent relatives it is a likely conclusion.”

“Looks like he’s not as dead as we thought,” Skinner muttered, wiping his grease paint away with a handkerchief from his pocket. “No point going after the Albatross now in an automobile, is there?”   
“No. She would flee as soon as she saw us in the distance,” Pavan answered, his face twisted with painful worry. “I must admit she is far faster than the Nautilus.” He steadied himself. As the now acting captain of this ship, he didn’t have the luxury of acting worried.   
“Pavan, I think we’re going to have to go to this island you're talking about,” Quatermain said.   
“Yes. I. I will get the Nautilus ready to leave at once,” he replied, hurrying off.

Sawyer said nothing. He leaned against the side of the automobile, trapped with his thoughts. He didn't unclench his fists.  
“Sawyer, why don’t you go inside and let Mina and Jekyll know what’s happening?” Quatermain suggested, implying he went and cooled off. He put a hand on his shoulder as a subtle reassurance.

Sawyer nodded, though he seemed disappointed at being asked to do so. He threw the black rag down with as much force as he could muster onto the front of the automobile and left. He did not let go of Ishmael’s waistcoat. It seemed everyone knew they would not find Ishmael in the port. Fantômas was much too clever, too cunning and experienced to get caught. Quatermain wished there was something he could say, but he felt it best to stay quiet.

All Sawyer could picture in his head was the fear on Ishmael’s face at just learning there was a chance Robur was alive. But to be taken to that same man, to risk seeing him in the flesh? To be at his mercy?! Sawyer shuddered. It seemed like Robur wanted Nemo alive and well, but did this also apply to Ishmael? Sawyer could only hope.

No matter how he looked at it, Sawyer still felt as though he had failed. The list of his regrets was growing bigger every day and he could not stop the feeling of anger rising in his chest. He forced himself to push it aside and went into the Nautilus to tell the others the cruel concoction of good and terrible news.

Quatermain forced himself to ignore the rag of material. “Looks like we’ll be leaving in a few minutes,” Quatermain said to Sherlock and Poirot. “I’d like to thank both of you for your help. We would have still been in the dark without you.”  
“You are most welcome,  _ mon ami, et bonne chance _ ,” Poirot smiled.  
“Good luck to you too, I’m sure Mr Holmes will be so kind as to put a good word in for you at the station,” Quatermain said. Sherlock nodded, and Poirot could not help but thank him and bow his head in gratitude.

“I am only sorry we could not be of more assistance. Write to me and let me know the results of this mission. I’m quite sure you know the address,” Sherlock replied with a half-smile.  


“I will. There is one other thing actually if you wish to take it up?” Quatermain said.  
“And what is that?” Sherlock asked.   
“When our friend was taken, as was a large collection of his paintings. If you can track them down and find them, it would be an excellent help. Fantômas had them hidden judging from what I’ve gathered.”  
“I'll see what I can do with what little evidence there is. The papers you found may still hold some answers. For you however, there is little to solve now, you just have to take action.” Quatermain said some hasty farewells to the two men who had entangled themselves into this mess.

As they turned to leave, Quatermain saw Sherlock’s magnifying glass floating in mid-air. “Skinner, give that back," Quatermain grumbled.  
"Sorry, old habits,” Skinner remarked as he returned it. Sherlock scowled and stuffed it back into his pocket.

“So there’s no sign?” Quatermain asked Skinner  
“Not a thing. They're long gone- I'm no tracker but it looks like Fantômas found a carriage- maybe it was there for the rest of his men from the boat.” Skinner put his coat back on. With a sigh, Skinner continued “I want to stay and look, but I guess there’s nothing to find. It just doesn't feel right getting back on the ship when they're out there.”

“I know, but we have to hope the plans lead us to the right place. Ishmael and Nemo can take care of themselves. We’ll get them both back soon enough, I’m sure of it. Come on, let’s help get the Nautilus ready to go.”

The hunter began to walk away but Skinner cleared his throat and said “Allan.” Quatermain turned to face the floating black coat. “It’s good to have you back.”  
“Believe me when I say that it is good to be back,” Quatermain answered, sending him a tired smile.  
Skinner scratched his head. “I think you’d best talk to Sawyer soon... He didn’t take the aftermath of Mongolia very well.”  
Quatermain nodded “When he calms down, I will.”

With that, Skinner went to help the crew move the automobiles.

As Quatermain boarded the Nautilus for the first time in months, he ran his hand along one of the railings. At least when they got inside the Nautilus away from the port he could explain everything he knew. After weeks of waiting, he was finally back amongst his team- no, team was the wrong word. The League was becoming something more… They were friends, perhaps even family.

* * *

**Outskirts of Ghent, Belgium  
** **(Continued)**

Nemo sat in frigid silence with his hands still bound to the seat in front of him. Lupin watched the road ahead. He had composed himself after the second fight with the League. There was a calm gleam back in his eye, but he looked distracted. Nemo was able to see whenever the thief cast a glance down to Nyctalope. Nyctalope was wearing down. He lay there as Champeau tried to get the bleeding under control. His head was resting on the nurse’s lap and the young man murmured in his sleep. He still groaned in pain and moved his head a little, but that was all.

"You're going to have to stop the car, Monsieur Zenith," Champeau said quietly.   
"What's wrong? We’re almost back," Zenith replied.  
“Just a few minutes, please. I can’t work with the movement. It’s too close to his heart for me to risk getting this wrong. It can’t wait but I don't need long.”  
Zenith looked to Lupin who gave a brief nod. Nyctalope was their priority now that Nemo was secure again.

Once Zenith brought the car to a stop, Lupin inhaled and exhaled as though to settle himself. He then got out of the car and opened the back door. Zenith remained where he was, eager to get away again. “Come on, Nemo, you've been cooped up there for hours. You can stretch your legs. I will tell you now, it’s no good trying to run off. I can guarantee that the car is faster,” Lupin said. He untied Nemo’s hands from the seat, though they remained bound together.

Furious or not, Nemo couldn’t deny he needed to stand up. He ached from sitting for so long, sleeping under the influence of medicine on the journey to the port hadn't helped. Nemo climbed out of the car, which was harder with his hands tied in front of him. Once he was out, he paced back and forth a little to get the blood flowing in his legs again. He avoided looking at anyone.

Lupin took out a small flask from his pocket, unscrewed it and took a small sip. He then held it out to Nemo.   
“Here,” he offered. Nemo looked at it but didn’t accept. He turned away.  
“Why so quiet? Are you angry with me?” Lupin inquired, keeping the flask at hand.

“What else would you expect of me?” Nemo growled, facing him again. He was not in the mood for Lupin’s attitude, if the thief wanted a reaction then he was going to get one. If anything had happened to Sawyer or Hyde, Nemo wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate. He did not want their deaths to be because they were trying to rescue him.

“We’re not going to have you pouting for the duration of this adventure, are we? If it helps to ease your mind, I shot the wheel- not your friends. Hyde used himself to protect the boy and I saw them both get up. I'm sure they're fine.” What Lupin had said was true, except for the fact that he did not see Sawyer get up. He hoped the boy was alright as much as Nemo did.

“Until I see them, I refuse to believe they are ‘fine’. With those speeds, they may have very easily perished!” Nemo answered. His anger irritated his ribs and made him cough. He held his side as the pain flared. He growled in frustration.   
“Just when I thought you and I were starting to get along,” Lupin held out the flask again. “Drink. You can have what’s left- it’s tonic,” Lupin said.

Nemo snatched the flask and took a fair mouthful. He took a few more sips after a moment. He couldn’t stop himself from still glaring at the thief. 

Lupin read into his glare. “I did what I had to, just as your friends shot Nyctalope. Try not to take it personally,  _ mon ami _ ." He ducked his head down to look through the open back door. "Speaking of Nyctalope, Champeau, are we ready to move yet?”

“Almost. I was right; the metal in his chest protected his heart.”  
"Will he need anything replaced?" Lupin asked, concerned.  
Champeau wiped his forehead high on his forearm. "It's hard to tell at the moment, but so far it all seems intact."  
“Good, we’ll leave as soon as you are ready. Take your time.”

Lupin looked back towards Nemo, who was still taking cautious sips to soothe his cough. He gestured for Nemo to get back in the car. The captain approached slowly and stood facing his stolen creation. He did not get in, he wanted to stay there and take in the fresh air and be back on his ship. He pondered the thought of trying to run off, even if it would be a hopeless dare. But was it the only chance he’d get? He looked at the road longingly, weighing the odds.

“Nemo, I’m deeply sorry, but we have to go now. Get into the car, please,” Lupin pressed.

Nemo whipped his head around to look at him. Lupin was stood with his frame strong and steady. He seemed ready for anything, though there was a genuine look of regret smuggling it's way into his face. It did not matter to Nemo.   
“Apologising does not heal wounds nor return people from the dead. It never has and it most certainly never will.”

Lupin inclined his head, not understanding what it was Nemo was implying. Whatever he meant would have to wait. Nemo wobbled. He glared down at the flask. “Drugged,” he scoffed and tossed the flask on the floor. “I might have known. Everything associated with you is a trick!” His anger had lowered his sense of security. He wanted to curse himself for it.

“Apologies, Captain. You can finally have your answers when you wake up, that I promise you.”  
Nemo wobbled again, this time needing Lupin to steady him. His body began to relax and he couldn’t stop it. He tried to shake Lupin off, but he didn’t let go. With his body turning to lead and his need for sleep growing, the fight was shortlived. Lupin was able to hold him as he surrendered to sleep in his grip.

“Was there any particular reason why you did that?” Zenith asked from the front as he watched Lupin struggle to get the captain in his seat.  
“Robur wanted him unconscious when he first came aboard. Adding a little salt to his supper seemed to help in making him thirsty but I wasn't sure he'd drink it. I had to let him out in case I needed to strike him,” Lupin grunted as he got Nemo inside.  
“You've made him angry one way or another. You've a talent for feeding fires it seems,” Zenith observed.

“Oh, scarcely that. He was mad enough without my help. I just needed an opportunity. You’ll do well to remember, Zenith. I do everything for a reason,” Lupin said, getting back in his own seat.

“And what reason did you have for hesitating earlier?” Zenith asked, bringing the seriousness back into the air.  
Lupin paused in his seat. "I was busy."  
"As I said before, monsieur, you have two hands. That was not the reason."

Lupin struggled to suppress a scowl. "Whatever the reason, it is my own and I do not wish to elaborate. Besides, it is not important." He didn't give Zenith the chance to apologise nor push on. "Can we set off now, Champeau?”  
“Yes, but try to slow down on the rougher parts of the road if you can,” the young nurse replied. Zenith gave Lupin an apologetic look, but it was clear he was dissatisfied at being able to not draw any answers. He started the car along the road with the silence as thick as blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a bit of a collage at the end of what all the members of the Mysterious Men look like. These guys are in the comics but I sorta did my own spin on them to an extent but I think I stayed true to the characters from their books I read. Nyctalope's was a lot harder because I read his first story (in chronological order) and since this set just after that first story, he doesn't look like the pictures you'd see of him, so his picture is more of a face-claim. But yeah, that's all. I hope you're enjoying this story so far. Let me know how you've found it so far. There's still plenty to go.


	18. Darkest Dejâ Vu

**Chapter 18 - Darkest Dejâ Vu  
** **Location Unknown: September 13th**

Nemo could not tell how much time had passed since he had fallen unconscious, again. He wasn’t sure as to when he had even woken up. Whatever had happened, the captain found himself faced with a new problem that required his full attention.

The first thing he acknowledged was a loud ffrrrrr sound, with the rrr unending. He found himself in an unfamiliar, dimly lit room, lying on a bed. His hands were no longer tied with a rope, but handcuffs - two pairs as if to be sure.

Nemo sat himself up to get a better view of the room. There was a dull ache in Nemo’s neck, which made it tempting to stay on the bed and sleep. No. Now was his chance to try to learn where he was. He had gone for far too long without answers.

The air was quite warm, enough so that he could sleep with or without the use of a blanket. Though the option of having a blanket was still presented to him, folded up at the bottom of the bed. It was a good thick piece of material, dyed white. He doubted he would need that any time soon. The room was furnished with only a bed and a desk with a chair. There was a small window, but it was too small to escape out of and too high for Nemo to see out without climbing. 

Nemo could feel no movement around him and so he suspected he was in a building. Still, he felt odd - like his ears were going to pop. He often felt a similar feeling when he went diving in the sea. The pressure around him was changed. It had to be. Unless, of course, it was due to whatever Lupin had gotten him to drink. Lupin. He’d managed to fool him again! And what of Jekyll and Sawyer? 

Nemo took a measured breath, exhaling his frustration. He rubbed his neck as best he could with his hands being bound. He decided to get up, he still had a small limp. Out of curiosity, he tried the door: Locked.

The walls, floor and ceiling looked to be made of a pale kind of wood. Nemo moved along and ran his hand down the wall to check. On further inspection, he found that it felt more like rough cotton.  _ This material… I have seen it before,  _ he thought. He tapped his knuckle against it, finding it to be quite solid. "Hardened paper..."

Before he could investigate further, the door unlocked and swung open. Two men were there; Nemo knew neither of them. The captain quickly placed himself in the middle of the room ready for conflict if necessary. Bound hands did not by any means make him defenceless. For an eerie moment, there was silence. No one spoke. No one so much as moved.

The two men were of medium build. One had blond hair with sparkling black eyes and a bony oval face. Compared to the other, the blond man looked quite thin and was taller than Nemo. He had a serious air to him, yet he didn't seem comfortable maintaining such a bitter reserve.

The second man had reddish hair with bright green eyes speckled with gold. He had pale skin with a few russet blotches. He looked to be very agile and active, but calm and steady all the same. Though he did not appear to have a physical advantage, Nemo had a feeling that his mind made up for it.

“Captain, I think you ought to come with us,” the red-haired man instructed rather than suggested.  
“And where is it I will be going?” Nemo asked cautiously.  
He was brief in his reply. “To get your answers.”

For a moment there was silence as he eyed the two with care. Deciding it safe enough, Nemo walked towards the two of them. Honest answers had been difficult to come by over the last few weeks and he was left with little choice. They wanted him to go with them and this was their polite way of asking. He knew it was pointless trying to resist but he approached them with care.

The red-haired man took him by the arm whilst the other produced a strip of material. “We have orders to blindfold you,” he justified. Nemo allowed them to steal his sight from him with reluctance. The captain felt humiliated in wearing something so inappropriate.

As the two led him away, they were careful to make sure he didn’t stumble or trip. Nemo hated being handled as though he was an animal, like cattle as they plodded along, oblivious to the slaughter that awaited them. He could not help but feel apprehensive. If they were taking him to get answers, was he ready to know?

Nemo walked a short way before having to climb a few stairs. There were plenty of twists and turns but Nemo felt that he was primarily moving upwards. The air was a little stuffy, but it seemed to be getting fresher until finally, he was outside. Nemo could tell due to a chilling wind that bit at his skin.

They continued to walk onwards. There was a slight creak of a door and Nemo was led inside, leaving the cool air behind. His skin seemed to burn due to him coming out of the cold and into the warmth. Nemo listened hard, hoping for more clues as to where he was. He heard nothing, but it was at that moment when someone removed the blindfold.

Nemo eyes adjusted within a few seconds. He found himself in an all too familiar room, a saloon. His stomach lurched as his eyes darted. No. No, not here, anywhere but this cursed place. The wall farthest from him was all books. On the left, there was a bench with a cabinet full of different alcohols. Nestled in the middle of the room were two armchairs and a larger couch facing the books and therefore had their backs to Nemo. Two small occasional tables were in between the three chairs. There was no fireplace, but in its place was a heater. Nemo looked out the window to see that it was daytime. He must have slept throughout the night.

Looking outside made him feel nauseous. His stomach turned to curdled lead and his eyes grew wide. His legs threatened to wobble, but he wouldn't allow it. He would not show fear; he didn’t want to even admit to himself that terror gripped his heart. He knew where he was. He saw the dozens of masts bearing propellers, the cabins sitting in their places on the hundred-foot long deck. Nemo was under the poop deck, and the helm in its glass cage would be above him. Nemo remembered every last detail about this ship, right down to her paper walls. He knew it all well as her captain did. Everything was starting to click into place: the reluctance in answering his questions, the change in pressure, the ship.

This was the Albatross, but who was her captain?

He heard the rustle of clothing. His eyes moved to focus on a head full of salt and pepper grey hair that was popping out from the top of the brown leather armchair. Nemo could feel the hairs starting to stick up on the back of his neck and goosebumps emerged on his arms, whilst his body felt warmer than before. He drew a deep breath and straightened his spine.

It was time for Nemo to know if his worst fears were to be confirmed or not. After over two weeks, it was finally time for answers. Still, at least Moriarty was out of the question. Nemo swallowed hard but raised his head and widened his shoulders. He hoped to look as strong and durable as he could, but it was difficult. His ribs were still sore, as was his side and his leg.

"Good morning, Captain," the man said without turning around. Nemo clenched his fists. Something in his mind was warning him to prepare to either fight or flee- his body hadn’t made up its mind yet. That voice was too familiar. Everything was too familiar. This was a nightmare he did not want to relive. Nemo struggled to keep taking slow and deep breaths. The confidence this man had was a bad omen in itself; he felt protected enough with only the two men at by Nemo’s side and his hands bound. Out of the millions of souls in the world, he longed for this man to be someone else. Anyone but him. He had to be dead.

"Show yourself," Nemo demanded, forcing his voice to be strong. The feeling of ice forming in his chest filled him with dread. Setting his teacup down on the occasional table beside him, the man stood up from the armchair. He turned and stepped out from behind the chair. "It’s been a while, Nemo."

Nemo felt the blood drain out of his face. For a moment the air froze in his lungs. He had tried to brace himself for the worst, but nothing could have prepared him to see it with his own eyes. He had been so sure he was dead. How had he survived?

Stood in front of him was Jean Robur, known to most as Robur the Conqueror.

"You!" Nemo seethed. He stepped forwards but the two young men who escorted him there blocked his path. Nemo could feel his anger flaring. Keeping himself in control was not easy for him, especially when a smile smuggled its way onto Robur’s lips. "You seem surprised. Surely you did not think I could be killed so easily?" he said.   
"Much to my satisfaction, yes. Although next time I’ll deprive you of your head and ensure I'm successful," he growled in reply. Nemo repositioned himself so he was stood at a diagonal, this way he could see if anyone was behind him or at the door. Now of all times, he needed to be careful.

Robur began to pace back and forth, studying Nemo with an occasional glance. "I’m afraid you will not be granted that opportunity… I must confess, I’m surprised to see you’ve hardly changed," he said, almost innocently. He acted as if he had never destroyed Nemo and Ishmael's lives, taking everyone they loved from them.  
"And I confess that I am losing my patience. I have no time for your false mannerisms. What is it you want?" Nemo spat.  
"Sharp-tongued as ever too, I see,” he observed. 

Nemo gritted his teeth, glaring at him. “What is it you want with me?” he repeated, harsher this time.

Robur said, “The same as last time. It is clear that war is coming and, due to Professor Moriarty’s actions, I am running out of time to finish designing a new airship before any conflict begins. This is where you come in." He seemed to glow with strength and authority. It tortured Nemo that he stood only a few feet from him and he could not sever his fat head from his shoulders.

"Where you  _ think _ I come in."  
Robur gestured for Nemo to be quiet but no amount of signals would silence him. "It is men like you who make war imminent," Nemo continued coldly.  
"Maybe so, but the French must be prepared. You will work alongside me to finish the designs before the turn of the century," Robur explained. "Your expertise will speed up the process."

Nemo tensed his jaw. There was his answer. He wanted his abilities. Robur wanted to use him as a tool to finish his machines again. A slight curiosity fell upon him. “For what reason would you help the French? You care not for others.”  
“Perhaps as I  _ am _ French. Any other motivations are none of your concern. Once the work is done, I'll have you released. That is all you need to know.”

“I confess a curiosity as to what makes you think I will build anything for you again in the first place. I would much sooner die a thousand deaths!" Nemo kept a tight rein on his fury but his voice was as hard and rigid as steel. Boiling and burning, his eyes revealed the hidden bloodthirsty fury struggling to break free. He had to try to keep calm. He couldn’t let Robur get under his skin, though Robur’s very presence was as painful as a burn to him. He was a monster!

Outside Nemo could hear someone shouting and it seemed to be getting closer. At first, Nemo hoped it was the League, but he knew it was not. Fate was not kind to him... it never had been.

Robur seemed amused. "I was right in predicting your reluctance. But I have something which will help change your mind. We captured your first mate in Belgium... Ishmael, isn't it?”   
"You snake!" Nemo snarled as he tried to slip past the two men holding him, this time with as much strength as he could muster. The two men together were too strong. 

The Captain of the Albatross did not even stir, not even stepping back as Nemo tried to attack. That provoked Nemo more than anything, Robur would soon learn of his wrath. He would learn to fear Captain Nemo and none would dare to come between him and his crew again!

It was then that the door opened to reveal Fantômas and Lupin, along with an outraged Ishmael. They guided him to the middle of the room, so he stood alongside Nemo. Just as the captain had been, Ishmael was blindfolded and his hands were bound in rope. He seemed to have tired himself out through previous struggles. 

Nemo forced himself to calm down, stepping back. He couldn’t allow Ishmael to see him in such a state, he had to fight himself and gain control. Over twenty years of fury and grief was chomping at the bit to be released. Nemo had been more than willing to risk it all to fight Robur, but not in front of Ishmael- not if it risked his safety.

Lupin removed the blindfold with care and held back onto his arm. Ishmael froze when saw Nemo and Robur. His body stiffened and he clenched his jaw. A deep scowl with burning eyes began to surface as his hands welded themselves into fists. “You murderous bastard! You-” the first mate bellowed at Robur, almost getting past Lupin with his struggles.

“I would tell your man to be careful with his words,” Robur warned. Though Nemo didn't want to appear like he was taking orders, he also did not want Ishmael to put himself at risk, not when he knew what Robur was capable of.  
“Steady, Ishmael,” Nemo said over the noise. With great reluctance, Ishmael did so. It relieved Nemo to see Ishmael trusted him enough to do as he was asked, even in the presence of the scum of the earth. Even after all that abnormality of a man had done.

“You always were the kind to roll over at your master’s feet like a dog,” Robur taunted, glancing sideways to the first mate.  
Ishmael seemed to struggle to not bite back, so he barked instead. “This dog will have your throat the moment he gets a chance,” the first mate growled.  
“Which is why you won’t be given the chance. Nemo, you will be the one to help me finish the airship,” Robur explained, changing the direction of the heated conversation.

“You haven’t agreed to this, have you, Captain?” Ishmael exclaimed. His captain stood and looked at Ishmael; he said nothing. What could he say?  
“No... though now you’re here I’m sure that changes things,” Robur answered for Nemo.  
“Captain, don’t give this madman anything! Think of the greater good. He’s a murderer!” Ishmael exclaimed.

“I have killed no one."  
"Liar!"  
"Though your captain’s hands are far from clean of blood. All those ships you destroyed, all the men, women, and children who died and many more who grieved for their lost ones… What does that make you?” Robur challenged. Nemo seemed to freeze at the mention of his terrible mistakes.

Ishmael was stunned to find he did not say a word. Nemo lowered his head. He didn’t struggle or fight, he remained trapped within his thoughts, unable to defy Robur. Nemo's resolve was weakening, his past was haunting him, his guilt was consuming him, the choice he had to make was agonizing for him.

“You know how this works, Nemo. You work, or Ishmael will suffer the consequences,” Robur asserted. Using Ishmael as a weapon was a grave mistake on Robur's part. Ishmael saw red, he could take no more. He was not going to bow down a second time. 

Fortune was on his side. The one called Fantômas had eased his grip. His bindings were badly done, and with a powerful pull, he was able to free a hand. Ishmael slipped past the men who held him. “You will do no such thing!” Ishmael swung for Robur and hit his mark with satisfying force. Robur stumbled back. No one was prepared for this.

Whilst Robur was distracted by the blow, Ishmael managed to push Robur back to the wall. He dug his fingers into the tender flesh of his neck before anyone could even react. Books tumbled from their places at the force Ishmael managed to muster.

"You killed them! Admit it!" Ishmael bellowed.

Robur was winded and unprepared for the blow, his face reddened with the lack of blood making it to his head. He began to pry Ishmael's hands from his throat, remaining calm. Ishmael tried to hold on, pressing harder but he could not compete with Robur’s strength for long.

Lupin hurried to seize Ishmael from behind, wrapping his arms around his torso. He put his head against his back so that Ishmael could not try to elbow him. When Robur saw Lupin helping, he managed to elbow Ishmael in the head. Ishmael buckled slightly. Seeing the opportunity, Lupin lifted Ishmael into the air and twisted him around to the side before letting go. Ishmael fell to the floor. Robur coughed as he caught his breath but didn’t approach him. He stared hard at Nemo.

Nemo didn’t notice. "Ishmael!" he beseeched, trying to yank himself free from the two men. He tried everything he could think of to fend off the two young men, but it was impossible. He couldn’t do much with his hands bound. They were too close for him to kick them with enough force. He could only stare in horror. He had to get free, they would kill him!

Before the first mate could get to his feet, Lupin pushed him onto his side. He put one leg over him whilst crouching down to keep him there. Ishmael tried to swing for him using the arm closest to Lupin, but he grabbed his wrist and wrapped it around the first mate’s throat, holding it there. The entire process took perhaps less than five seconds.

“Let go of him!” Nemo shouted. Ishmael was pinned at Lupin's mercy. Ishmael tried to use his other arm to hit him but he couldn’t reach; kicking also made no difference. Lupin could have continued to attack him with his spare hand but he did not even raise a finger. He kept him there and waited.    
“Fantômas, the rope if you will.”

Fantômas retrieved the knotted rope from the floor and unpicked it with a skilled hand. Lupin didn’t move until it was time to bind his hands behind his back with Fantômas’s help. 

“That’s enough now. We’ve had enough violence for this week,” Lupin muttered to Ishmael.

“Robur, if you harm him, I swear-” Nemo began.  
“Do as you have been asked and I shall have no excuse to. Coqui, Degains, get him back below,” he interrupted, having righted himself after the attack. He was not particularly fazed by Ishmael’s violent retaliation. He just dusted himself off and continued as if nothing had happened.

Nemo tried to battle his way to freedom and protested as he was led back down to his room. He prayed that his friend had not sealed his fate by attacking Robur. What were Robur’s intentions of keeping him up there? Terror gripped his chest. He couldn't lose Ishmael- he couldn't!

Though the captain struggled, he soon found himself back in his room with the door locked behind him. The handcuffs had been left on for the time being. Nemo sat on his bed and became immersed in his own worries and thoughts. He almost didn’t hear the others speaking. He looked up to his door, which had a small hatch at eye level so they could see what Nemo was doing from outside. The hatch was open for the time being.

“Rene, perhaps you should go and see if Lupin needs any help with him,” the red-haired man said. The blond-haired man, Rene, nodded and left. The other did not speak to Nemo but remained outside his room, waiting for orders no doubt. He came into Nemo’s line of vision. The captain glared at him, unmoving. The other looked at him from the corner of his eye, but no words were exchanged. He eventually closed the hatch.

“Robert,” he called from outside. Nemo tensed, initially mistaking what he said to be ‘Robur’. He was only speaking to Robert Champeau, the nurse who was tending to Nyctalope’s injury.   
“Jean, I didn’t see you there. What’s wrong?”  
“Has Leo pulled through? I heard he was in a bad way...”  
“He’ll be fine. When he comes around I’ll try to find you and Rene.”

At this point, Nemo blocked out the conversation. He hoped he could say the same for his friends. He didn’t know the welfare of Jekyll, Sawyer or Ishmael. He didn’t even know if anyone had been hurt when he was taken from the Nautilus. He lay down upon his bed and rested his eyes, not wanting to sleep but collect himself, ready for the next confrontation. His rib throbbed so settling himself helped with the pain.

Nemo's nightmares had become reality. He felt sick at the thought of Robur being alive. He needed to be at his best. He couldn't lower his guard too much. Ishmael’s life and his own could depend on it. Though he did not like it, he found that the fire inside him turned to ash… for now. Although his stomach curdled at the very thought, he knew he was going to have to work for Robur.

* * *

**(*Later That Day*)**

Lupin decided to head above deck now that things had settled down somewhat for the night. Despite being curious as to why the captain and his first mate been so infuriated at the very sight of Robur, he decided he could wait until morning.

He wrestled back a yawn. It had been a very long day and he was looking forward to going to bed and putting it behind him. The thief assumed that they were currently flying over Italy. The ship was at a considerable height but had not yet moved above the clouds. That would come later when the terrain beneath them became more populated and daylight broke.

Even after all this time, the Albatross still amazed Lupin. She flew at a steady speed of forty miles an hour, though she could go eighty miles faster if she wished. There was no rush and Lupin didn't complain. He loved being out on the deck looking at the tremendous landscape. The view at night was as incredible as the day. The lights far beneath them were as peaceful as fireflies.

Upon making it up the stairs that led to the open air, Lupin found Robur at the side of the ship, leaning against the railing. He was admiring the view of the ocean below encased with moonlight. The captain was smoking a cigar and casting the smoke out into the sky.

Wordlessly, Lupin went and stood beside him. Robur turned his head in acknowledgement before turning back.  
“Something wrong, Lupin?”  
“It can wait until later… Have you been to see Saint-Clair?”  
“Nyctalope? Yes, I went down to see him earlier. He’s as white as a sheet for the time being but healthy enough. He has been lucky,” he replied.

"And how is your neck after today's altercations?"  
Robur looked at him from the corner of his eye, "Not a mark, thanks to you. They’re both angry devils, that much is certain."

A calm silence fell upon the two as they looked out into the night. The weather was on their side now and the wind had died down. It was nice to relax for a moment. Lupin however, had become curious about one thing.  
“We never actually went to get Nyctalope. He was a recommendation- so why did the Government suggest for him to join Les Hommes Mystérieux?”

Robur drew from his cigar and smoke slipped past his lips as he said “Revenge.”  
"Ah, now that’s an answer I did not expect. Come, tell me more,” Lupin said, taking to cleaning his sapphire ring on a handkerchief.  
Robur flicked some ash from his cigar. “In short Nyctalope’s father was a scientist. His research was stolen by a spy and his father was attacked. You may know the spy’s name: Sadi Khan. He proved himself on his last adventure. Nyctalope is doing us a favour and in return, I have to help him track Khan down.”  
“I’ve heard of Sadi Khan, he’s a nasty one. Nyctalope has his work cut out for him.”

“He shouldn’t be part of Les Hommes Mystérieux,” Robur grumbled as he flicked the ash from his cigar with more strength than necessary. “And I have better things to be doing than going after Khan.”  
Lupin’s brows knitted into a frown, “What makes you say that? I thought you liked the boy.”  
“He’s a good lad. His heart is in the right place, but more often than not his head isn't. He’s too young to be part of this- he’s already almost gotten himself killed,” Robur answered.

“Through no fault of his own. Besides, even injured as he was he did very well. He will learn, just as the rest of us have,” Lupin shrugged. “Besides, the hardest part of the mission is over-”  
“Not with the League looking high and low it’s not. We can’t let our guard down,” Robur pointed out.  
Lupin struggled to find his words. “I’d hardly say he’s a liability. The League doesn’t know you’re involved or where we’re taking Nemo. Besides, even if they were to know, we can outrun the Nautilus and I have many a hiding place.”

Robur shook his head, dissatisfied "There’s too much at stake. He’s not dedicated; he only wants Khan."   
Lupin furrowed a brow. “You speak as if something has turned you sour towards him... Have I missed something?”  
“No. Only we cannot afford for this plan to fail.”   
Lupin wasn't convinced, he took in the view for a while. “As long as we stay alert we should have no trouble. Although I’ll be sure to talk him out of any idea of pursuing the brute.”

Robur squashed the stub of his cigar between his thumb and index finger to put it out and flicked it away. “He has no chance of finding him with or without our help.”  
“Perhaps… I need to speak with you at one point about Nemo, but for now, I am going to bed. It has been a long two days,” Lupin said with the faintest of smiles.  
“Goodnight, Lupin, and thank you again for this morning.”  
Lupin laughed. “I couldn’t let someone throttle my paycheck, could I?”

Robur had a lighthearted slap at his arm as the thief passed. “Actually, I have a favour to ask of you.”  
Lupin rolled his eyes and sighed, but he still had a smile on his face. “Make it quick.”  
“Take Nemo to see Ishmael when you wake up. I need them to both get along with you. It will be easier for me to pass my messages through you and this way we can avoid rebellions every few hours.”

“You’re getting clever, my friend. I’ll see what I can do, but Nemo isn’t very happy with me for shooting at his friends and drugging him half a dozen times.”  
“You’ve a way with people. You'll manage. Do what you need to get on their side as best you can, there’s no need to run it by me first. I trust your judgement will be sound.”  
“Then leave it to me, just stay away from them for now.”  
Robur nodded and with that Lupin left.

Robur stayed outside for a while longer. He asked the crew on night shift how the ship was faring. When he received the reply that all was good, he too headed off to rest.


	19. Private Words

**Chapter 19 - Private Words  
** ** _The_** **_Nautilus_** **, Celtic Sea: September 13th**

Sawyer took a deep breath of the ocean air around him. The evening was drawing in and the sky was draped in a hazy red blanket. It had been the previous night when they had faced their enemy. The League's morale was on the mend, but their spirits were still down, even with Quatermain’s return.

The League had caught up on their sleep throughout the day. Pavan had already started the Nautilus on her long journey to the infamous Island X. The news flew around the ship and Sawyer knew the crew was worried. The facts stayed the same at least but soon everyone knew about it. They knew Sawyer and Jekyll had failed in saving the captain.

He crossed his arms on top of the railing and rested his head on top as the Nautilus sped along the water. She would have to come to a stop in the morning to recharge her solar panels, but that would then last a few days.

Within the hour Sawyer had been at the surface, he had succeeded in making himself feel quite sick with annoyance and mounting concern. A lot had happened in one day, the possible had been far from achieved and the impossible had come into the light.

_Only in the League can that happen - man did I screw up again!_

Sawyer couldn't believe he had failed. He could outdrive a chain reaction of falling buildings to save an entire city from destruction, but he couldn't save one man in a mad chase. A man who was trapped living in his worst nightmare and Sawyer could do nothing to help now for weeks.

For all Sawyer knew, that may have been the last opportunity he would ever have to save the captain. He maybe wouldn't even see him, or Ishmael, again. Though he was growing to accept it, his mistakes had still caused the deaths of two companions. He hoped failing this time had not resulted in a third or even fourth loss.

He pulled himself out of his bleak thoughts as the door opened. Quatermain approached and stood by Sawyer's side.  
 _Well, one and a half deaths,_ Sawyer mentally added.  
"It's a bit late for you to be out. I thought you'd be at the dinner table by now," Quatermain said.  
"Oh, uhh... yeah. I guess I'm not that hungry. I think I’m full up on flies from when Jekyll and I were driving," Sawyer said trying to make light of the situation. He rubbed the back of his neck from where the crash had jolted it.

Quatermain cleared his throat. "A little invisible bird told me what happened after I was stabbed. He also told me how you were when he went to pick you up."  
The agent sighed in defeat and looked out onto the horizon. "He tell you anything else?"  
"He did, though I'd rather you told me why you felt you were not worthy of re-joining the League."

"I... uh..."  
"Sawyer, out with it."  
Quatermain leaned on the top of his gun, waiting for an understandable reply. 

Sawyer sighed. "I guess I just... felt like I'd... failed. Heh, guess I failed again. I failed my best friend, I failed you, Skinner almost died, I failed Nemo and Ishmael, and I have failed the League. Quatermain, I can't keep messing up like this! Not when the stakes are so high."  
"You can't succeed at every single mission you're put up against- I certainly haven’t. You can only do your best, and that's what you have done. You know that- we all know that."

Sawyer looked up towards Quatermain. He looked surprised but more disappointed in the young agent.  
"So I keep telling myself, but my best obviously isn't enough," Sawyer argued.  
"Don't be stupid, lad. Think of what you have done. You’ve stopped Moriarty where hundreds have failed. You've helped save the world from an all-out war, you saved Venice, kept the League together when it nearly fell apart, Sawyer you’ve done so much lad. If you can do all that within a few weeks then I know that you can get Nemo back.” Sawyer sighed, his focus shifted onto the sea again.

Quatermain didn't stop. “The rest of the League didn't go to get you for you to do this by yourself. You don't have to accept all responsibility for this. Why are you doing this to yourself?"  
Sawyer looked down at the ground, it wasn’t easy finding his words. "I just can't let another friend down."  
"You won't, Tom. Though I don't know what happened to your friend, I know for certain that you did everything you could for him. As for me, it was my time and I would die again if it meant you were safe," Quatermain reassured him boldly.

Quatermain stood up straight and looked at Sawyer. "Look, we aren't chasing after someone like Moriarty this time. If you think he's smart then you're in for a shock. Les Hommes Mystérieux has skills that the League simply does not have. We're more of a fighting force. They have some of the best brains in the world with thousands of men ready to be called up to help them. Their intelligence and fame are their strengths, but if we can find a weak spot and strike with our strengths, we might have a chance. We have to be clever about this and work together. We can still get them back.”

"I know. I'm just worried for them in the meanwhile... Quatermain, you didn't see Ishmael's face just from seeing Robur's flag. He was terrified, he nearly collapsed and that's not like Ishmael. I want to help them, but how can I from here?"  
"First off, you can go and get some supper and keep your strength up. After that, I'll explain all that I know and after I need your help to get the crew's morale up - and the League's for that matter. Right now, we need our optimistic lad back. Can you do that for Nemo and Ishmael?"

“I'll give it my best shot,” Sawyer sighed.

"Good. Promise me one thing, Sawyer. If I, or any other dies, don’t hold yourself responsible. Hindsight is a cruel thing and there’s nothing anyone can do to change fate," Quatermain implored. Sawyer nodded with a faint frown. 

The door to inside the ship opened and Skinner appeared, fully dressed. "Come on, you two. Food's getting cold."  
"We'll be right down. Go on ahead, Skinner," Quatermain said.

Once the invisible thief had left, Quatermain said "Chin up. Have five minutes and clear your head. You did well yesterday, you really did. I’m proud of you, lad."

With that, Quatermain followed after Skinner. Sawyer took a few deep breaths to steady himself. He kept repeating what Quatermain had said to him in his head and couldn’t stop himself smiling. Quatermain was proud of him.

He took in the open air to further settle himself from both his sorrow and happiness - it was a strange combination. Quatermain was right. This was the best way for him to help his friends. He had to hold onto hope and help everyone else too.

Now was the time to really stop feeling sorry for himself. He had to do as both Skinner and Quatermain had asked of him. Though Skinner had helped him to get on the mend, Quatermain had given him that extra boost he needed, even if he wasn’t used to giving talks like that. It would take time, but he couldn't keep lingering over past mistakes. Quatermain telling him that seemed to make so much difference. He couldn’t let them down because he was too busy looking behind him. Tomorrow was where he lived and breathed, and he needed to return to that.

With a nod of approval to himself, Sawyer took a deep breath and went back inside the Nautilus. Though his guilt tried to say otherwise, he had to have been starving.

* * *

 _**The** _ **_Albatross_ ** **: September 14th**

In the early afternoon, two days after the League’s rescue attempt, Lupin made his way to Nemo’s room. Lupin opened the door with the key that sat in his pocket and went inside. He was pleased to see Nemo had eaten the meal that had been brought for him. At first, he thought Nemo was asleep but he sat up in his bed, ready for anything. A flash of pain seemed to appear on his face as he moved but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Lupin," he greeted, though with a coldness in his tone. He moved to sit on the edge of his bed and rubbed the sleep from his eye.  
"Captain. Have you calmed yourself after all that excitement yesterday?"  
The captain narrowed his eyebrows. No, he still wasn't too collected about it. "Somewhat," Nemo grumbled. Lupin noticed one of the pairs of handcuffs had been removed, but the other was still attached to one of Nemo’s wrists - so it could easily be refastened.

" _Très bon_ . I can take you to see Ishmael for a few minutes should you consent to come with me," Lupin offered. Nemo looked at him with a sceptical expression “Why should I trust what you say when I have discovered you to be in the employ of that animal? This explains how you found your way around my ship. He still has the blueprints.”  
"Yes, that is correct. Put away your scowl, monsieur; it does not suit you. I may be under his employ as you say, but I am not Robur. The choice is yours. I can leave if you wish but I have no reason to lie.”

Nemo was too eager to see his first mate to not risk it. He got up from the bed with a sigh, stiff from lying for so long. Lupin reattached the handcuffs behind his back. The thief had no doubt in his mind that if the chance came, Nemo would be gone and try to flee.

Lupin led Nemo out of his room and through the ship. The captain wordlessly took in his surroundings as they walked. He refrained from struggling and instead hoped Lupin was being truthful. Lupin did not bother with the blindfold. It would serve little purpose now. Nemo was well aware of where he was and he already knew his way around. The blindfold had been a precaution to stop him from bolting away whilst they were still on the ground. Being in the air would hopefully pose less of a problem.

They stopped at a door. "You can only have a few minutes. You can have more time once you start work. That is my own offer to you,” Lupin said as he released one of Nemo’s wrists, to give him full movement again. He then unlocked the door and opened it for him to enter.

Nemo chose to ignore the thief and went inside to find Ishmael pacing back and forth. He froze upon seeing who had entered.

"Captain!" he exclaimed. It was then Lupin shut the door with a gentle thud. Nemo was grateful for the privacy.  
"We don’t have long, are you alright?" Nemo asked, walking over to him and putting his hand on Ishmael’s shoulder.  
"I’m unhurt. Robur made me stay behind to make it clear not to cause any more trouble."  
"As long as you are unharmed, that is my main concern."

“You shouldn’t worry about me, Captain. I’ll be fine,” Ishmael reassured him. “But you were hurt on the Nautilus-”  
“My wounds have healed enough,” Nemo reassured. “I only regret being unable to help you yesterday, please accept my apologies."

As Ishmael smiled, a gloom seemed to cloud his eyes. "Please don’t, Captain. I knew it all held little chance of success.”  
Nemo frowned in concern. “Then… why would you do it?”  
Ishmael looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “I couldn't stand to see him standing there... after everything he's done. For him to lie to our face! You didn't deserve to go through that again... After all, at the very worst, Robur would have lost his hostage.”  
Nemo took Ishmael firmly by the arm. “Swear to me you won’t be so reckless again. I cannot have you harmed, Ishmael.”

“You've my word. I am sorry, Captain. I just couldn’t stand there and listen to that slug manipulating everything. I couldn’t stand it!”  
“I understand. Let’s try not to concern ourselves with that anymore. There are more immediate matters to consider.”  
“With any luck we won’t be here long at least." Then Ishmael leaned in close and whispered, "The League are on their way, I think. They know about the Island. I'm sure it's where we're heading."

A dim hope filled Nemo eye's and lit up his face. This reminded him of something. "Yes, I saw the League following me. How are Sawyer and Jekyll? Did you see them?"

"Aye, I caught a glimpse of them. They’re both walking so I think it's nothing serious. I was grabbed quickly so I don’t know much else. I didn’t get time to speak to them."  
"Good. I feared that they had not made it out of the crash."  
"No, Captain. They'll be fine. Everyone is fine, that I know of, I promise."

The first mate’s face fell. “You should know... I showed Mr Sawyer Janni’s book to try to find a lead in which to find you with. He never opened it and I accept full responsibility-"  
"It’s alright, Ishmael. The League will learn the truth about me soon enough. You made the right decision," the captain smiled softly. It was a genuine smile which offered relief and comfort to his first mate.

"What do we do until the League finds us?" Ishmael asked, ensuring Nemo was the only one who could hear him.  
"For now, we will have to remain compliant. We will avenge those we have lost, even if it kills me- that I swear to you, but until the League is here, do not give Robur an excuse to-"

It was then Lupin opened the door "Time’s up, I’m afraid." Nemo took a measured breath. He looked at his first mate and gave the most reassuring look he could muster with a firm nod.

Nemo needed Ishmael to be strong for both their sakes. Many thought that Nemo’s strength came from himself. It was untrue; without his crew he would have still been a different man- that barbaric monster who slaughtered hundreds of men. Ishmael had been the one to challenge his actions and made him see sense about his attacks on other ships. Nemo only wished his first mate had done so sooner.

"Trust me," Nemo said before walking over to Lupin, who was stood waiting. Lupin fastened the handcuffs to his hands once again and escorted him out. Nemo kept his eye on Ishmael until the door was shut with a feeble creak. As much as he despised the situation he was in, he was somewhat grateful to see a friendly face. Nemo swore to himself to do all he could to protect Ishmael - even if it meant helping Robur. Nemo could safely drag his heels to make progression slower. It would be worth it if the League was able to save them.

As they walked down the hallways, Nemo remained lost in thought. He had met Ishmael long before any of the other crew. They saw each other every day for seven years on the island before living together for about twenty five years so far on the Nautilus. That was thirty two years in total. For thirty two years Ishmael had been by his side and even after all this time he remained loyal to a fault. After all Nemo had done, all his hideous and appalling mistakes. The horrors his madness had created… Still, Ishmael was there. He was always there when Nemo needed him.

When Dorian Gray had shot Ishmael in Venice, Nemo thought he had lost him. He couldn't have coped without him. He still couldn’t. Ishmael was so much more than a first mate. Nemo would proudly call him his brother. He was the closest thing he had left to family.

“Thank you for not fighting me,” Lupin said. “Here let’s get these off and save your wrists.”  
Nemo nodded but didn’t really respond. Lupin freed Nemo’s wrists entirely and left him in his cell _._ Nemo watched the door shut and lock with a click.

Nemo wouldn’t risk losing Ishmael again. Ishmael had already lost too much because of that monster, just as Nemo had. Nemo would not let him suffer any more through Robur’s hands. He'd die before any harm came to Ishmael again.

_Let us hope it does not come to that…_


	20. Prince Dakkar

**Chapter 20 - Prince Dakkar  
** **_The Albatross_ ** **, Over Africa: September 17th**

Despite his feverish impatience to know, Lupin didn’t want to have to ask. He knew it would open a can of worms and he would not be able to seal them away again. Still, it could not be delayed any further. He needed answers from Nemo.

Now that Nemo was secure on the Albatross and had a few days to settle, Lupin decided it was time. As soon as he finished his dinner, he began to walk to Nemo's room. The ship was still flying over Africa. Fortunately for Lupin, they would not be flying over Dahomey. He did not want to bring his own memories that close to the surface.

At the last moment, he decided to get Nemo a drink of aerated water. So with two glasses in one hand and a bottle under his arm, he unlocked and opened Nemo’s door. The captain was sat at his desk, not writing, but reading the copies of the plans so far. The captain looked weary and worn. He massaged his temples as though he had a headache.

“Captain,” Lupin greeted.  
Nemo sighed and rubbed his eyes. “What is it, Lupin? I'm trying to work.”  
“Pah, that won't be going anywhere. Come, I need to ask you something.”

Electing against arguing, Nemo put the plans down as Lupin sat in the spare chair. “What concoction of drugs will I be drinking this time?” Nemo asked, raising an eyebrow. Lupin smiled and put both cups on the table and filled them halfway.    
“None, I assure you. It's only lemonade. If you don't believe me, you don't have to drink. That’s not important..." Lupin took a sip from the cup Nemo left him. "What I would like to know is why you have such a disliking for Robur.”

Nemo looked Lupin in the eye. The thief didn't like the coldness he saw in them. “Has he truly not given you the reason why he should be dead?” Nemo asked.  
“No- well, not that I’m aware of at least. I’d rather you told me. Robur isn’t the best storyteller.”  
Nemo’s face contorted with disgust. “Do not call it a story. It is a truth I would rather not remind myself of. I also fail to see why I should trust you with something so private,” he scowled, harsher than Lupin had expected.

Lupin couldn’t help but sigh “I need to know what I am missing. Why do you insist he does not deserve life?”

"I say what I say because it is true! I do not have to sit here and justify myself."  
"As a matter of fact, you do. How can you and I see him so differently? What has he done to you, Captain?” Lupin leaned forward with a soft expression. “Let me understand."

The captain shook his head to himself. "I won’t speak of the past. Those wounds are still open."  
Lupin sat back in his chair again. "Then until you do, I will not believe that he is the monster that you claim."  
"Then you believe a lie," he spat.

Lupin inclined his head, "then correct me."

Nemo made a movement of agitation, pushing the air from his lungs is a sharp gust. He remained quiet, thinking hard. Lupin was patient but made no signs of giving up. 

“So be it,” Nemo ground out. “You need to know what sort of monster you are working for." Nemo's temper began to settle as he thought of where to begin. "I suppose it all started many years ago when I lived in India... I was the son of the Raja of Bundelkhand.”

Lupin raised an eyebrow in clear surprise and scepticism. “That means you're a... prince.”  
Nemo shook his head and took a measured breath. “No, not anymore at least. I remember I was due to leave for Europe to continue my studies abroad.”  
Though Lupin didn't understand how this connected to Robur yet, he didn't push the captain. He expected he was building himself up to the answer.

“A few months before I left on that trip, I had met a young girl, Maliha. She was the daughter of one of the servants and her mother had managed to get her a job in the palace. I have never met anyone like her in my life. She was so gentle and warm, a truly incredible woman.”

Nemo paused as the scene played out in front of his eyes all over again…

_ The young prince hurried down the stairs which led to the gardens. His wanted to speak with his father about going abroad for a month or two again. The prince was eager to see the world, but he had a few questions that were in need of answering before he went. _

_ As he turned the corner, he bumped into a girl, no older than sixteen. She had been carrying a tray of fruit through to the kitchens. He did not have time to avoid the servant. With a clatter the tray fell to the floor and the few pieces of fruit went flying. She also fell upon the floor and yelped. _

_ “I am deeply sorry, Maharaja. Forgive me and my incompetence,” she begged, rushing to pick up the fruit. Nemo couldn't help but smile at her as she hurried, his smile faltered however when he saw she only used one hand. She kept her other hand close to her stomach. Had she injured herself?  _ _   
_ _ “I was just as much to blame. It was an accident. Yet had I been my father you would not have been so easily excused,” Nemo said, crouching down to help her. _

_ Childish though it may have been, he could not help but look at her and decided that he wanted to know more about her. There was a gentleness in her eyes, an innocent glow of warmth. She was beautiful. _

_ Nemo cleared his throat and put the fruit he had retrieved back where it belonged, receiving a bow of gratitude from the young girl. “What is your name?” he asked as she stood up. “Maliha, Maharaja,” she replied quickly. Her weight shifted from foot to foot, trying not to look at him. _ _   
_ _ “Well, Maliah, try to be more careful. Are you hurt?” he said. She seemed to settle a little when he smiled at her reassuringly. _

_ “I. It’s just where I landed on my hand. I’m sure it’s fine,” she explained. She was struggling to hold the tray in her injured wrist.   
_ _ “Come, let me walk you to the kitchens. I will carry that for you,” he offered. Nemo had never seen anyone quite so hesitant and fearful. “Trust me. You have done nothing wrong,” he reassured her, which earned him a nod and a flicker of a smile in return. _

“Nemo?” Lupin said, drawing the captain from his nostalgia.  
“I’m sorry, my mind was… elsewhere,” he admitted, rubbing his forehead.  
“It's alright. I realise that this isn’t the easiest of things to discuss,” Lupin replied. He leant against the table and took to running his finger around the rim of the cup, waiting for Nemo to continue. Nemo found it was better for him like that rather than staring him in the eye.

But still Nemo couldn't bring himself to look at Lupin, he instead covered his mouth with the back of his hand and closed his eyes. He needed to compose himself again. Though he didn’t know how well he would do by the time he got to the end of this horrible tale. The very thought of Maliha made his heart ache and burn.

With a deep breath, Nemo pushed on “I soon grew to love Maliha. But naturally a prince and a servant could not be together. Still, I was young, with little consideration for the rules of royalty. I did my best to see her as much as possible. Life was almost perfect for me…" A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. It faded into a hateful glower within an instant. "And then the British came.”

_ Gunfire and chaos were the things that met Nemo in the middle of the night. That and his father shaking his shoulder and calling his name. “Wake up, my son, Wake up! We must go.”  
_ _ “What’s happening, father?” he asked sleepily. He rubbed his eyes and sat up.  
_ _ “Pack your things. Get up!” _

_ Nemo was half dragged from his bed. Feeling the urgency, he raced to pack a bag, though he didn’t understand what was happening. His mother soon came to the door a small satchel over her shoulder. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her face was still flushed. He knew something was very wrong. _

_ He grabbed only the essentials and things he could not bring himself to leave behind, his Kangha, he put his Kara on, and put his kirpan in his bag, stuffing them into a small sack with his father’s help. He tied up his hair quickly but had no time to put his turban on. Something was deeply wrong. His father took the sword Nemo had been learning to wield with a masterful hand from its stand and handed it to him. "Put it on. We have to leave at once.” _

_ “Why? Where are we going?” Nemo asked as he fumbled with the buckle. _ _   
_ _ “France,” He answered, his face fell a little further. “I do not know when we will return.” He put his hand on Nemo's shoulder. “I need you to have your wits about you, my son. Be strong for our family.” The young prince swallowed hard and nodded. _

_ The three made their way downstairs and out into the courtyard. Nemo's father led the way, sword in hand. Feeling uneasy, Nemo stayed at the back, keeping a hand on the hilt of his blade. It was only as he stepped outside that Nemo fully understood. He saw hundreds of troops, British troops. Their guns smoking and bayonets dripping with blood. Terror gripped at his chest. _

_ Time was running out. His father led them to an awaiting horse and cart. A gun sounded. His mother suddenly stopped and made a face of distorted pain. She seemed too shocked to speak. She fell backwards into Nemo’s arms, who only just managed to catch her. Nemo froze in alarm, thinking the worst. “Mother?!”  _

_ Nemo felt several bullets fly past them, some far too close for comfort. Crouching down beside them, Nemo’s father placed a hand on his wife’s forehead and then to her cheek. She was still alive, whimpering in pain and murmuring, her trembling hands she reached for his. Blood poured from the wound in her side. _ _   
_ _ His father’s face contorted into an expression of heartbreak and fury. For the sake of them all, he forced it aside.“You’ll have to carry her. Hurry now.”  _

_ Nemo struggled but lifted up her small frame and carried her over to the horse and cart. She clung to Nemo’s shirt as the pain made itself known. He climbed inside with her. His father did not get in with them. He was locked in battle with two men. There were too many soldiers, the guards could not defend them for much longer. His father knew it. Nemo was struggling to keep the pressure on his mother’s wound.  _

_ With a strong series of strikes, Nemo’s father defeated the two soldiers. He made no movement to get inside the cart.  
_ _ “You’re coming with us, aren’t you?” Nemo asked fearfully.  
_ _ His father closed the door to the cart. “Look after your mother, get to France. If we manage to beat the British, I will come to collect you to bring you back,” his father explained. _

_ “Father no!” Nemo grabbed him by the sleeve. “I. I can’t do this by myself. Please, help me with my mother. I don’t know what to do!” Nemo begged.   
_ _ “I’m sorry, my son. Keep pressure on her wound until you get away from the conflict. Someone will be able to help you then... I am so very proud of you, my son. I love you both,” he explained. Before Nemo could say another word, his father pulled his arm free and stepped back, ordering the servant driving to leave. _

“I can still remember what I saw when I was driven away. My father was enraged at what had happened. He went to defend our home, blade in hand. He fought honourably. He brought down many British troops as he tried to regain control of the palace. My father was in fact more skilled than what I am now. He truly was a talented swordsman... However, one of the soldiers shot him in the back when he was trying to help one of our soldiers get to his feet.”

Lupin noticed that Nemo’s voice started to falter, he seemed trapped in the memory. His expression grew into a deep grimace. It was like he was speaking without acknowledging the words he said. “Yet still he kept fighting as best he could, but another bullet brought him down… Of all things, he... nodded to me and smiled before he fell. The British were cowards and killed him when he couldn’t defend himself. He did not deserve that!”

Lupin jumped when Nemo’s fist met the table in anger. Once again, Nemo found himself having to stop, this time to regain control of his flaring temper and his stinging eyes. Lupin opted to remain quiet. He had heard all the rumours of what circulated through the world about Nemo, none of them had been right. No one understood how it had affected him, even to this day. Lupin didn’t think that after all this time he would still be quite so sore about it. He'd never accepted it. He never would.

“I wanted to go and help my father, but I knew he was gone. As we left, I saw Maliha running in our direction. I made the cart stop to collect her. I wouldn’t lose her as well. She was crying. Her mother had been killed… my mother also did not make it. She died in my arms within a few minutes...”

Nemo took a sip of water as a means of composing himself. “Maliha was all I had left. My home, my family, my future, it was all stolen from me.” 

Nemo drew a breath. “So you see, I am not a Prince. Prince Dakkar died when the British took almost everything he held dear. It was then that I swore vengeance against the British for what they had done. I have never forgiven them… nor will I ever forget. I only joined the League to try to free India from Britain’s rule... but that was a lie.”

With a blunt look on his face, he continued. “We made it to France and slowly made a life for ourselves. By the time I was twenty- four I was an engineer, making more than enough money to survive. I was even starting to make a name for myself. I married Maliha and then we had a daughter, Janni. We lived in France for about six years. Once again, when I was at my happiest, it was taken from me...”


	21. The Origins of the Nautilus

**Chapter 21 - Origins of _the_ ** **_Nautilus  
_ ** **(Continued)**

_ Looking up from his work, Nemo’s eyes settled on the clock. It was a quarter past midnight. He had no idea that he had been working for so long. The hours felt as though they had crumbled away. He sighed and began putting everything in its rightful place. With that done, he carried his candle into the lounge. His wife was still awake, sitting on the floor by the fire, reading. Her face was fair in the soft light surrounding her. She seemed to be enjoying her book as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. _

_ “Maliha, have you been waiting for me?” Nemo asked, setting the candle down. Maliha looked up from her book.  
_ _ When she saw her husband she replaced the bookmark and put it down. “Of course. I don’t mind.” Nemo sat on the floor beside her and gently pulled her into him. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on top of hers.  
_ _ “Why didn’t you tell me it was getting so late?”  
_ _ “Because when I came to the doorway you seemed to be quite content. I decided to leave you whilst you were getting on.” _

_ Nemo smiled and kissed her forehead. “I don’t deserve someone as kind as you.”  
_ _ “You doubt yourself, my love. You are a good man.” Her hand rested on his chest as if fascinated by its rising and falling. Nemo held Maliha tighter, finding himself completely at ease. He closed his eyes and relaxed for a blissful moment. Holding her took away all his worries, she always kept him looking forward and not to his cruel past. She reminded him of his purpose as a husband and father.  _

_ Just then, the sound of crying came from upstairs. Nemo was about to stand but Maliha stopped him. “It’s alright, I’ll go. Why don't you check the doors and put out the lights? I’ll meet you upstairs,” she suggested. With a smile, Nemo nodded and watched as she went upstairs to see to their baby daughter, only a few months old. _

_ As Nemo readied himself for bed, he couldn’t help but think how far he had come in a few years. He had followed his dreams of becoming a Nautical Engineer. Even though he was still in his twenties, Nemo was becoming one of the best. He made enough money to look after this family and that to him was the most important thing. He was proud of what he had achieved. He only hoped his parents would approve of what he had become. _

_ It was only an hour later that Nemo heard a soft thump and Janni began to cry again. It was a little louder than her usual cry of discomfort. This time, Nemo went to see to his daughter. He picked her up out of her cot and soothed her, holding her close. He sang a gentle lullaby to her, one his mother had sung to him. It began to settle her crying. Nemo looked around the room as he sang and saw that one of the pictures had fallen from the wall near the window. He realised it must have scared her. _

_ Nemo checked the window to make sure it was locked tight. It was open slightly. Perhaps the wind had caught it. He frowned and locked the window with one hand. There was no need to look further into the matter, knowing that he or Maliha must have forgotten to shut it earlier. _

_ “Shh, Janni. It’s alright... I’ve got you. I've got you,” he whispered. He walked around the room in a slight rocking motion, which helped to settle his daughter. She reached up to grab his beard as he continued to sing. Nemo smiled and moved his head out the way of her hand, offering her his hand to hold instead. She felt so fragile in his arms and yet so strong as she held onto his index finger. He danced with her a little while, offering her distraction. The rocking motion made her show a toothless grin and laugh. By the gods that beautiful little laugh was everything to him. Nemo smiled to himself and kissed her forehead. _

_ When Janni finally began to fall asleep again, Nemo put her back into the cot, but he waited a while and continued his lullaby. He ran his hand down her cheek as she wiggled to get comfortable. Eventually, she drifted off. Nemo stayed with her, looking at her little angelic face as she slept. She was his future. His everything. Content that she was asleep, Nemo began to walk back to his own room. _

_ But it all happened so fast. _

_ As he closed the door to his daughter’s room, he felt a sharp blow on the back of his head. He hit the ground hard with a shout of alarm but was still awake. The young father found himself dazed on the ground, unable to get up for a moment as he gathered his bearings. _

_ Maliha screamed. He looked up to see his wife struggling as a rugged-looking man grabbed her by the arm and held her back. Janni had begun to cry again at the noise. That was enough to get him to try and stand up but another blow sent him swiftly into the world of oblivion. He prayed with all his might that when he awoke his wife and daughter would be unharmed. That was the last thing he could remember thinking. _

Nemo sighed as he resumed telling the grim truth. “I awoke on the Albatross. My wife and my daughter were there waiting for me. They were both safe. That was when I first met Robur. He was not exactly cruel, but he was very overconfident and self-contented. I couldn’t tolerate him, especially after the way he had taken us. Dislike soon turned to hatred. He refused to tell me why I was there until we arrived at Island X.”

Lupin noticed Nemo seemed to be dreading continuing this conversation. The thief decided to drink some of his drink whilst Nemo also took to fixing his dry throat. At least now Lupin understood why he had told the story from the very beginning.

“When we made it to the Island, I found that I was not the only one to be imprisoned. There were tens upon tens of other engineers and scientists, all their families. It was then we were finally told what was to happen to us. Robur wanted my idea for a new ship, for the Nautilus, to be built for his own selfish needs. None of us agreed with the idea, but we had little choice when our families were threatened.

“In his desperation to be the best, sickness began to thrive in Robur's mind. For six long, tedious years, I had no choice but to build the Nautilus. That's how I met Ishmael, who was also forced to work alongside me. Somehow, Robur had heard of my growing talent and ideas.

“Janni was only seven years old by the end. I didn’t have much time to be with her, but I tried my best. Though even then, she hardly knew me. She was unable to see her own father because I was working." Nemo tensed his jaw. "Janni felt that I did not care about her. Maliha was equally unimpressed at what I had to do, but she understood. They were all I had left and I couldn’t risk their safety. Maliha did her best to try to make Janni see, but she was too young to understand. I swore to her when the ship was done we would be free… I promised myself and her that I could prove to her how much I cared. I was to show her the world, give her freedom...”

The captain took quite a large drink from his glass. Somehow Lupin knew this was when he was going to get his answers. He couldn’t help but brace himself for whatever was to come next. A grim suspicion grew in the corners of his mind.

“The days passed slowly, but the day finally came when she was built. I hoped to be able to save India by using the Nautilus. Some of the men who had worked with me also agreed to help. You must understand. I could not let Robur take the Nautilus from me."  
Lupin furrowed his brow "Why? Was he planning to use it?"

"He had forced us to make her and he did not deserve her. Robur wanted to take over the world. By using both the Albatross and the Nautilus, he would have had the power to take over one single county in a single day. It would give him approximately one-fifth of the map as a result.”  
“He was going to attack London... wasn’t he? He was going to capture England? The colonies would fall into his possession- or at least in his mind they would,” Lupin assumed.

Nemo nodded. “From there he would be able to capture so many other Empires. At first, I agreed with him and wanted to help since I had come to despise the English. I saw it as a chance to free India. But it was Maliha who made me see sense when she explained how innocent people would die, just like my mother and father. She made me see that this was not the way to free my home and I’m glad she did. So with the men on my side, we revolted against Robur.”

_ The two men stood side by side, looking at the  _ Nautilus. _ Ishmael was a little way off, busy working. The weather was not celebrating the  _ Nautilus _ ’ creation along with Robur’s men. It was cold and windy, but dry at least. _

_ “You have done well, Dakkar,” Robur observed.  
_ _ “Thank you, Captain,” Nemo replied, making sure he at least sounded genuine. It was time to put their plan into motion. It was up to Nemo to set it all off once he received the signal. In the pocket of his raincoat, Nemo’s hand gripped a wrench. That was all he had been able to sneak out before he had to go and see Robur. _

_ Nemo had to look up to see Robur’s face due to his height as he said: “I have an offer for you should you care to listen?”  
_ _ “Very well.”  
_ _ “Join me, be my right-hand man. You are an intelligent individual and I am curious as to what we could achieve together. We have already built your dream. Imagine what else we could create- we could reshape the very foundations of the world.”  
_ _ “A tempting offer, but I'm afraid I have to decline, Captain. We carry very different dreams. I would rather focus on my family now,” was Nemo’s careful reply. _

_ Robur turned his head to look for the location of yelling some distance away. That was Nemo’s chance. He took the wrench from his pocket and swung it as hard as he could at his head. Robur collapsed onto the floor. Nemo made sure he was unconscious before he and Ishmael dragged him behind a few crates. From there they were able to bind his hands and legs, gagging him also. _

_ “I don’t know exactly how long we have. I’ll get the others. I need you to get to the bridge and ready the ship. Some of our friends are already on board to help you,” Nemo instructed, handing him the wrench. Ishmael nodded and raced to get into the Nautilus. It took Nemo a while to make it from one side of the fortress to the other, freeing all Robur’s prisoners as he did. He couldn't suppress the nervous excitement. This was going to work- After seven long years, they were going to be free! _

Lupin waited as Nemo grew silent again. “I’m sorry, I… I don’t think I can continue,” Nemo admitted, standing up and pacing. He folded his arms as he walked, as though restraining himself from making agitated movements. Lupin was surprised at his attitude.

“Nemo, you can trust me. You’ve gotten this far,” Lupin said.  
“Trust is not what has silenced me. The memory... it is... sore, even after all this time.” Few words of comfort came to mind, so Lupin poured a little more lemonade out for the pair of them. “Then take your time,” he said. 

A few deep breaths settled Nemo down enough so that he could sit back down again. Nemo looked down at the drink, vaguely seeing his own reflection. He had to tell him; there was no backing out now, but it was harder than he thought to get the words out. “When I made it to Maliha and Janni’s room the door was open. I went inside to check if they were still there...”

Taking another measured breath, Nemo covered his nose and mouth with his hand. He rubbed his eyes and moved his hands away from his face. Swallowing hard, he looked Lupin in the eye. Lupin braced; this was what it all came down to.

Nemo shuddered. “I was met with blood… Pools of it. Maliha had been attacked.” Nemo looked away, becoming lost in the memory that had seared itself into his mind. He clenched his fists as he resumed “I tried to help, but there was nothing I could do. I was too late and her wounds too overwhelming. She kept asking where Janni was. I wanted her to feel at peace, so I said she was with Ishmael... She… She died in my arms. I must have stayed there for a while because Ishmael came to see where I was.

“I had to carry Maliha’s body in a blanket whilst we searched for Janni; I couldn't leave her. I just couldn't.” He paused, steadying himself once more. Anger twisted its way into his voice. "Janni was… my beautiful little girl was gone too, almost exactly like her mother. I could not even get to her body... By now the alarms had been raised and the guards were here, firing at us. Ishmael had to drag me away. He had tried to get his wife, Rachael, before he found me. She was already dead when he found her, only her death was even more violent than Maliha’s- Robur had killed them all!”

“Robur!? No, Robur couldn’t- he wouldn’t, surely?” Lupin exclaimed. He sat up straight, unable to comprehend what information he was being given.  
Nemo’s eyes were damp as he looked him in the eye again. “He did…"

Nemo leaned back in his chair and emptied his glass. His hands carried the slightest tremble. He battled it away using his anger. “We knew we had to get back towards the Nautilus. Neither of us was in any right state of mind, but we fought, and we made it to the port. That was when I saw Robur. I shot him with a gun I'd retrieved and I would have put more bullets in him had they been available... I was so confident that I killed him, so sure justice had been served. But I was wrong. He should have died for what he did.”

Again, Nemo had to stop. His breathing was shuddery as he struggled to keep himself composed. The memories overwhelmed him, the pain tortured him. “I promised Janni for so long that I would free her, that I would take her to see the world. To be so close and have it all stolen away from her. They must have been terrified, defenceless- in so much pain... It was all just…”

“I understand,” Lupin said gently.

Nemo nodded, he felt sick. “We used the Nautilus' rockets to blow up the Albatross and the Island itself. A lot of the fortress was underground, however, but I hoped the damage reached the very roots of that place. We then fled the Island, buried Maliha in the ocean, and then went to India for a few days to gather a crew and supplies. After that, I took the other engineers home along with their families. Only Ishmael and a few others stayed with me, so I made Ishmael my first mate. The next time my feet touched dry land was in France a few years later and that was when I met you. Everyone knows the rest.”

“The rumours? The ships?” Lupin asked carefully.  
“Yes, those are true from what I have heard. In my grief, anger thrived. I attacked mostly warships, knowing that they were off to destroy thousands of other people’s lives. I declared war on war itself, trying to think of the greater good but… clearly I’m even worse than Robur...  I know I have done terrible things in my life, Lupin. I know I’m an evil, rancid pirate, but what Robur did to Maliha and Janni, to Rachael? If you have children, you will understand. I hope you realise what kind of man has you under his employ… He has left me with only a ship and a crew. It's all I have.” He shook his head.

Nemo made a ‘tsk’ noise, not quite a laugh, but close. “To most who know me, I play the part of a resilient captain; fearless with a single passion of science. I act as though nothing else matters. I myself thought I had purpose by destroying the ships, but… as time goes by I seem to feel more..."

"Go on," Lupin pressed gently.  
"Lost and. And..."  
Lupin finished it for him. “Lonely.”  
Nemo looked Lupin in the eye, surprised. Lupin understood him more than he thought. Did he know the pain Nemo carried: the pain of losing those you love? How it feels to be alone with nothing left?

The captain nodded solemnly. “Now the cycle will start again and Robur will kill the only family I have left. He will kill Ishmael if he gets the chance, I'm sure of it. I may deserve this punishment for what I have done, but Ishmael does not. Lupin, I am begging you to protect Ishmael for me, please. I care not for myself.”

Lupin was intrigued to see the pain on the captain’s face. “Ishmael will come to no harm. However, there’s only one thing that I do not understand. How did you know it was Robur who was responsible? You said he was unconscious and bound.”  
“He was covered in blood before I shot him. Besides, only he and a few others would have been strong enough to... do what he did."  
Lupin nodded. “I am sorry that I had to ask you to go through that again.”  
“You were right. You needed to know,” Nemo replied bluntly, though he didn’t look at the thief.

There was a knock at the door “Monsieur Lupin?” a voice inquired from outside.  
The thief sighed “That'll be Zenith. I’m afraid I have to go. I’ll bring Ishmael down to see you in a little while. You can have the rest of the day off work if you want,” he offered. Nemo shook his head as Lupin collected the glasses and the half-empty bottle.

“I need to finish reading the work,” Nemo murmured.  
Lupin opted not to argue. As he was about to open the door, he stopped. “Nemo, I really do think Robur has changed since then. Twenty five years is a long time. You have changed for the better… perhaps he can too…” He then left.

Just like that, Nemo was left alone with wounds freshly opened and filled with salt. He remembered his family's last night of freedom in France. How he comforted his daughter when she cried, how he tried to protect her from her fears and was able to be a father. He thought of how he held his wife in such peace- that beautiful oblivion where they felt so safe. There was nothing he could do. No words could describe his pain and none would ease it.

They were gone. Lost forever, leaving him only cold ghosts of memories that were once so precious to him. Nemo approached the window, hoping to cool off a little. He climbed up on the vacant seat that Lupin had been sat on and peered outside. The glass was tinted black to make less sunlight get in, which was easier for Nemo’s eyes as they were so high up and no clouds could block out the sun. He could see nothing but sky.

_ People like Robur don’t change. He only cares about himself. The League is the only thing that is different now... This time I will not take any chances. I’ll do whatever I must, but Robur, you will pay for what you have done. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah I sorta took my own spin on Nemo's backstory for this, but I've been accurate where I can, thought I'd point that out.


	22. The Fallen King of Thieves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning on this one for referenced suicidal thoughts, so proceed with caution if that's something you need to look out for.

**Chapter 22 - The Fallen King of Thieves  
** _**The** _ **_Albatross_ ** **, Over Africa: September 18th**

Lupin tossed back and forth in his bed. Sweat was gathering on his head and neck as he wriggled. His breathing was more like that of a panting dog than that of a sleeping man. The thief clenched his fists in his sleep as he continued to struggle against his memories. He flung his head around desperately trying to evade his appalling recollections of his time in Dahomey, West Africa in 1892.

_ Bullets tore through the air around him. Sometimes the bullet found its mark and a shrill cry of agony would carve its way into Lupin's ears. The heat of the air wrapped its burning fingers around his body, making it harder to breathe. Gunsmoke engulfed the entire battle - it was hard to tell friend from foe. The smoke stung his eyes, leaving the thief to depend on his instincts alone to survive. _

_ Lupin fired his gun and with it brought down a strong warrior who was about to strike one of the French soldiers. Blood went flying from the man’s body, who was only trying to defend his home. Lupin was sickened at the sight but continued to fight. He had to. _

_ With an empty barrel, Lupin could only use his bayonet as the enemy troops rushed forwards. Subconsciously, Lupin found himself defending the young man whom he had saved only moments ago. His name was Paul, and he was one of the nicest men Lupin had ever known. He was light-hearted and being in his presence could raise anyone’s spirits. Lupin wished he had been so innocent at his age, not a thief parading himself to the galleries. _

_ Lupin ducked under a sword swing and drove the blade into his enemy’s chest. Another man came at him and Lupin only just managed to turn around to strike him. After having to kill several people with the blade, blood was dripping down the gun and onto Lupin's hands. The thief was so horrified at the sight, he did not see the gunman who took aim at him. _

_ A bullet suddenly slammed into Lupin's stomach like an iron fist and the pain seemed to freeze time itself. The deafening bangs and yells quieted as Lupin staggered back, clutching his gut. Lupin could feel his blood pouring out of the wound. Paul rushed to catch him as his knees gave way under the sudden strain. Oblivion refused to take Lupin as he lay on the ground in agony. _

Remembering the pain and his helplessness made the thief scratch at his scar, digging his nails into the skin. The pain, the blood, the death, the cries of men, it was too much for Lupin to take all at once. There was too much- he couldn't take it, but nor could he wake up. Lupin continued to thrash about, scratching his sides, kicking and calling out. He couldn’t take it!

_ Lupin watched helplessly as Paul was also shot down whilst being distracted. Paul was so young- not even out of his twenties. Lupin could see the fear in his eyes as he succumbed to death almost instantly. Why? Why did that poor lad join the army? So young… So innocent… _

_ It was then Lupin’s eyes slipped closed. _

Lupin threw himself forwards with a yell of alarm, reaching beside him for an imaginary bayonet. His hand met only blankets. He paused as the realisation hit him. It was a dream. He was alright. It was a dream.

Lupin sat still for a few minutes, his chest heaving, body shaking, and his stomach lurching, remembering the sight of his wound. He focused on taking deep breaths, remembering where he was, that he was safe and Dahomey was nothing more than a distant memory, a nightmare. With a steadying sigh, he climbed out of bed and got dressed before making his way outside. He needed air, his room felt too small, too warm, too suffocating to bear for much longer. 

Lupin paused to draw a slow deep breath of the cooler air around him before closing his cabin door. He tried to forget about the dream but that was not so easily done. 

In the hopes of not getting spotted, Lupin retreated to the side of the ship, hiding in the shadow of the cabin. For a few minutes, there was tranquillity, nothing but the buzz of the Albatross as she glided across the warm air and the strong but cool winds that followed. He did his best to savour it, for the cold air to push any emotion back down. He didn't fully understand why that dream haunted him again. Perhaps the recent gunfire in Belgium had triggered it somehow. Perhaps it was only a one time occasion? He desperately hoped so.

"Lupin?" Robur said quietly, a fair way off. Lupin snapped his head to the side, but he immediately eased, tried to smile.  
"Good evening," he said.   
"We both know that's not the case anymore," Robur answered, coming to stand beside him. "But I won't pry, I think I understand."  
Lupin sighed, letting his shoulders slump even further. "You heard me?"  
"I did… Is there anything I can do for you?" Robur asked, furrowing his brow in concern.

Lupin shook his head. "I'll head back to bed soon. I'm fine, I just needed air."  
Robur nodded cautiously. "Very well, you just tell me if that changes."  
Lupin thanked him and Robur left him in peace, somewhat reluctantly.

Lupin used his time to think about what happened to him, when his consciousness had flickered to see men surrounding him, trying to help with what little they had. The doctor tended to his wounds with some difficulty. Lupin, when he was conscious and not severely delusional, realised there was very little chance of survival, but his body clung to old instincts. To hold on, to survive. Looking back, he was glad they did.

_ Days passed as Lupin tried to recover in the army camp. Lupin’s breathing didn't come easily to him. He lay on the small canvas bed in a tent, pale, covered in sweat. The candlelight around him seemed to give his skin a golden sheen. He wheezed and tried to sleep on his side, curling up, hoping one way or another the pain would stop. Infection was slowly taking over, wreaking havoc on his entire body. It was unbearable but sleep didn't want him yet. Amongst his painful coughing, he heard the rustle of the tent and footsteps on the dry ground. _

_ He didn't turn to look at who entered the tent. He didn't care. He just wanted to sleep and no one would give him that.  
_ _ “I'll leave you with him,” his commander said quietly. Lupin knew that voice anywhere. He often came to check on him.  
_ _ “Thank you.” That was a gruff voice he didn't recognise. Another doctor here to poke and prod at his injury? He hoped not. _

_ Slowly, he looked down at the foot of his bed, the sheer size of the man took him by surprise. There was a calmness in his face, no small degree of pity. Lupin could only just make out a sad smile under his grey American goatee.  
_ _ “W.Who..” Lupin croaked. The man walked to the side of his bed to save him from having to move his head. He knelt down beside Lupin.  
_ _ “My name is Jean Robur. I am here to take you back to France.” _

_ Lupin furrowed his brow. “W…Why?”  
_ _ Robur leaned in closer and Lupin gulped.  
_ _ “I know who you really are, Monsieur. Let's leave it at that, shall we?”  
_ _ Lupin felt another wave of hot dread wash over him. Not that. That was the last thing he needed. Robur must have picked up on his anxiety and said. “You've nothing to fear, I can promise you that. I want you to heal, anything after that can wait.” _

_ “No…” _

_ “No?” Robur raised an eyebrow.  
_ _ “Others… t.take… others. I. I won’t last.”  
_ _ “You will. I'll take the worst injured along with you. But I will be leaving a vast amount of supplies for the rest.”  
_ _ Lupin hissed in pain and tried to curl up. It triggered more coughing. Robur leaned forward and put a hand on his shoulder to keep him still. _

_ “Deep breaths, slowly now.”  
_ _ The only reply he could muster was a whimper. Robur put a hand on top of Lupin’s head, rubbing his hair slightly as one might reassure a child.  
_ __ “Rest. Let's get you home, healed, after that, I think I can give you a fresh start.”

Lupin nodded to himself. A fresh start and a new purpose indeed. Second in command of Les Hommes Mystérieux was impressive, but he was more satisfied with the fact that he was preventing more soldiers from suffering. It was all the purpose he needed for the time being.

But what Nemo had said about Robur... That changed things, and Lupin wasn’t sure what to believe. Could he trust Nemo’s word over the man who had saved his life and had worked with him for the last seven years, saved his life, cared for him and any wounds he’d collected over that time? Lupin itched his head. For the time being, he wasn’t going to choose. He wanted more information before he made a decision. The truth could not hide from Arsène Lupin for long.

Glancing back at the cabin, he decided to try again and get more than a few hours sleep. He took a few long moments of relaxation, drawing deep breaths, and savouring the moonlight. Then he retired. At the very least, he’d be able to rest his eyes, but he expected it to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Lupin backstory, sorta accurate. At one point he does sort of want to end it all because he's lost so much and joins the army in the books, but he's able to get past that, so I based this around that part.


	23. A Bad Year

**Chapter 23 - A Bad Year  
** **_The Albatross,_ ** **Indian Ocean: September 23rd**

A week had passed on the Albatross since the conflict in Belgium. Her prisoners had settled down and there had been no further incidents since then. Zenith was glad to hear the Albatross was due to arrive on Island X tomorrow. He was growing tired of the restriction the ship brought with her. Despite him expecting the hardest part of this mission was over now, he had his doubts. The League was trying to find Nemo and they wouldn’t stop until they did.

With an empty wine glass, Zenith wandered towards the saloon. He hummed as he walked, gaining Nyctalope’s attention from inside. Nyctalope stood at the bar, so Zenith sat beside him. Perhaps he could draw some decent conversation out of him.

“All day with not a thing to do. Is it too much to ask for a little excitement in one’s life?” he mused, placing his glass on the bench.  
“You speak as though you want something to go wrong,” Nyctalope remarked.  
"Oh, hardly that. Only I don't have much tolerance for monotony."  
"I'm making the most of it. I've a feeling it won’t last," he said, reaching for the small bottle of brandy and filling it less than halfway.  
“I have to say I agree,” Zenith said. He eyed the bottle curiously.

“I doubt Champeau will want you drinking that,” he added.  
Nyctalope shook his head. “I’m not having any. It's Robur’s, I’m just getting him a glass.”  
“What? He’s got you plodding after him already?” Zenith exclaimed.   
“No, no. I offered. He was busy.”  
“You should rest more, my boy,” he said warmly. “Though I must say, that looks like a good year… do you know, I fancy swiping a sip?- just to check it’s not poison.” Zenith smirked to himself.

Nyctalope shrugged his shoulders and slid the bottle over. Zenith reached over the bar and took a fresh glass. He poured out a taste, hardly even a couple of mouthfuls, before giving the bottle back. Then he took a little sip and his face contorted in sour disgust.  
“It’s a bit too bitter for my liking. I think I’ll stick to a bit of wine and champagne.” He sat the cup on the table. “Well, it serves me right, I suppose.”

Then things started to feel wrong. As Nyctalope walked towards the door. Zenith began to clear his throat and hold his neck, massaging it. It felt as though it were burning. “What in God’s name was in that drink?”  
“Only brandy, why?” Nyctalope furrowed his brow, 

Slowly, his stomach began to feel like it was twisting and contorting. The pain in his abdomen increased and he had to lean forward in an attempt to ease it. It felt like everything was slowing down; drowsiness and confusion began to take hold. “What sort of Brandy is that? It’s… it’s burning... Almost-” He was cut off with a groan. He was going to be sick. He could feel the curdling sensation rising with every breath. “It’s getting hard to breathe...” he managed, almost as if panting. 

“What are you talking about?” Nyctalope asked.  
Zenith tried to hurry away but his limbs felt heavy. After a few steps, he collapsed. His senses began to wither at a startling rate.

“Zenith?!” Nyctalope exclaimed, rushing to him. With as much care as he could manage, Nyctalope lay him on his side, making sure his head was facing downwards. Zenith hardly felt it. His muscles burned as his body began to convulse. He struggled to breathe and his eyes slipped towards the back of his head. “Zenith, can you hear me?” The words sounded so distant. What little grip he had on his senses was slipping away.

As Zenith’s eyes began to close against his will, he could make out Nyctalope’s shadow above him. Then he disappeared, calling for Champeau. Zenith’s world went black as his body fell limp.

* * *

**(*Meanwhile*)**

“Have you gotten any further forward with Nemo?” Robur asked, taking a long look out of the darkened window of his cabin.  
“He’s going as fast as he can, Jean. I imagine it's difficult to jump into a half-finished project with no prior knowledge of it. You'll have to be patient as you’ve already been told,” Lupin answered. He entertained himself inspecting his monocle, sighing on it and wiping it with a handkerchief, settled in a chair at the other side of the desk.  
“France doesn't have the time to be patient,” Robur grumbled. “I told the Government the design would be finished by December at the very latest. This is why I had to get Nemo in the first place.”  
Lupin continued cleaning his monocle. He crossed his legs over and made himself comfortable in his seat, bobbing his foot up and down. “I know, but as I say he’s doing his best. Next time don’t set such unrealistic goals.”

The thief stopped what he was doing with a gentle sigh. He looked up. “The deadline with France isn’t the only reason you took him though, is it?”  
"What do you mean?” Robur asked, a little harsher than intended. The captain sat himself down behind his desk.  
Lupin shrugged “Well, it strikes me as rather peculiar that you’ve spent a month trying to get Nemo on this ship. It’s an awful lot of effort you've put into this.”  
“You know I want the new ship to be able to sail on and under the water, as well as through the air. Nautical engineering is his speciality. It's not as though I stopped working on the design myself whilst we were trying to find him.” Robur hesitated. “What is it you’re trying to get at exactly? You know why we need him.”

“Do I know why we captured him?” Lupin pressed. “If I’m not mistaken you’ve been hiding something, Jean, and I don’t believe I am mistaken... I'm talking about when you first captured him. Nemo told me what happened. I’ve heard his version of events. It's only fair for you to explain your side.”

Just like that, the atmosphere fell away. The temperature seemed to plummet. Robur could feel it, that immediate yet invisible darkening of the room. He didn’t know what Lupin was leading to, but he carefully picked his way forwards. 

“I fail to see its relevance.” Robur raised an eyebrow as Lupin stood up from his seat. He leaned over the desk, using his arms to steady himself.

Lupin kept his voice down. “Nemo told me his family was killed- his wife and young daughter. Ishmael's wife also - all murdered. Nemo is accusing you of their deaths after he turned on you. _That_ is what makes this relevant.”   
Robur frowned and knitted his eyebrows together. He eyed Lupin, trying to read his body language. Lupin was calm, there was not so much as a flinch, not a nervous movement. The eye contact was unwavering and the expression concerned.   
“I know Nemo is good at twisting facts, but that is preposterous! What kind of man do you take me for?” Robur grumbled.

“I take you as I know you. But please, enlighten me. What do you say happened?” Lupin stood up straight again. Robur didn't stand up. He instead began to unbutton his shirt. Robur revealed a great scar on his chest, which was close to his heart. It was a large scar that had not healed very well. He then buttoned it back up and corrected himself.   
“By George, that’s a pretty mark,” Lupin muttered. He resisted the urge to look startled and waited for Robur to speak. After all, Nemo had told him he had shot Robur.

“I won’t deny that I captured him in France and had him build the Nautilus. His family were brought with him to ensure the work was done, as was the case with everyone else. On the day that the Nautilus was ready, Nemo attacked me. Once I regained consciousness and got out of the ropes, I tried to help one of my injured men. In doing so I ran into Nemo and he shot me.” Robur sat forwards “So tell me, after being struck in the head with a wrench and tied up like a damned hog, how was I meant to have had them killed? Until now I had only suspected they were dead. They left the island alive, of that, I had always been sure!”

“How could you think that? Ishmael’s wife and Nemo’s daughter were left behind."  
“So you're accusing me of killing the three of them?” Robur summarised, with a voice like sandstone. He folded his arms and stared hard.  
“No, I am not. I'm trying to understand. Though, judging by that tone of yours, one can’t help but doubt,” Lupin pointed out. Lupin was quiet for a moment as Robur scowled. "Whatever happened that day, Nemo blames you and he wants revenge. The way he and Ishmael acted seems to prove that, don’t you think?”

It was then that Robur stood up from his seat, and was somewhat taller and larger in frame than his company. Lupin took a deep, but calm, breath and raised an eyebrow, trying to remain peaceful but Robur saw the expression on his face hardened.

“I did not so much as raise a finger towards their families and I gave no such order. I was overambitious and selfish- but by no means a murderer! He's deceiving you, Lupin, and you've swallowed the bait whole!" Robur stressed every syllable, every word. "How did a prisoner's accusation come to mean more to you than everything I've done for you since Dahomey-”

“That’s not true!” Lupin declared, eyes wide and a scowl prominent. He calmed himself with a single powerful breath. “Dahomey has _nothing_ to do with this. I am here because I choose to be and for no other reason.” His voice softened, “I never accused you of killing them. I only wanted you to tell me your side of events. I am not turning against you, my friend. I trust you wholeheartedly, but I had to ask, you understand? Someone killed those people and if Nemo is accusing you, then you must be careful. Now sit back down and stop making a fool of yourself.”

The outburst took him by surprise, but Robur held his silence. His face did not falter. The expression remained unchanged, carved as though in stone, but it soon cracked. Robur sat down, calm and steady. “I am sorry to hear of the deaths, I truly am, but I did not-”

Suddenly, the door flew open. Nyctalope was there. Slight beads of sweat had emerged on his forehead and his breathing was somewhat rushed.

“Nyctalope! What-” Robur began.  
“Zenith has collapsed! I think it’s poison. Champeau is looking after him,” he exclaimed.   
“Take me to him.” Lupin was about to follow after him, but stopped at the door.

“We'll talk about this later,” he promised, his tone gentle. Then he left, leaving Robur with only the company of the horrific news.

* * *

“What do you suspect did this?” Lupin asked as they hurried across the deck. He folded his arms to try and reserve the warmth in his jacket. The winds were strong with the Albatross’ speed.  
Nyctalope kept a little way ahead, trying not to look back at him. He kept walking as he said “He poured himself a glass of brandy. He said it was bitter, but I thought he just wasn’t used to the drink. A few minutes later he collapsed.”

Lupin frowned and reached out, taking him by the elbow to stop him. “Are you alright?”  
Nyctalope lowered his head and rubbed his forehead. “I was just startled. It. It's nothing. Come on, they might need our help.”

Lupin removed his hand with a doubtful frown. Without another word, Nyctalope led him to the room Zenith was in. Lupin was about to enter but stopped. “Do you have the bottle secured?”  
“No, I just fetched the glass from the table. God, I didn't think!”  
“It’s alright. Be quick and fetch it for me. We need the bottle moved out of everyone’s way.” 

Nyctalope nodded quickly. Lupin couldn't help but watch as he went away with a hurried pace and his shoulders hunched. With more immediate matters on his hands, he tucked the concern away, heading inside to see if he could help. They couldn't lose Zenith.

* * *

**(*A Little While Later*)**

Lupin didn't see Nyctalope again for some time. He appeared as Lupin was returning to Zenith’s room. Nyctalope called out to him, but Lupin did not stop. Instead, he gestured for him to follow. He did so.

Upon entering Zenith’s room, Nyctalope heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he murmured. Zenith, although sickly, was asleep. He turned his head a little with what strength he had left. It looked like a good sign. Was he close to waking?

Champeau had gone out however they were not alone. Fantômas was sat at the far side of the room on a wooden chair. He was there to keep an eye on Zenith to make sure he didn’t take ill again. Nyctalope acknowledged him with a nod, which he returned.

“Is he alright?” Nyctalope asked.  
“He'll survive, given that he rests like he's been told,” Fantômas reported.  
“Had it not been for Fantômas’ help we may have lost him,” Lupin added. He sat himself down in a seat beside the occupied bed.  
Nyctalope stayed leaning against the wall. “Why? Did something else happen?”

“I've seen my fair share of poisons, I had my suspicions on what type of poison it was- nicotine, one of the fastest acting and potent poisons that there is. Nasty stuff. Knowing the signs may have saved him. What I don't understand is how he ended up with it in his system in the first place,” Fantômas explained.

“He drank some brandy. I went to get the bottle but it’s gone.”  
“Gone?! You’re quite sure?” Lupin exclaimed.  
Nyctalope nodded gravely. “I’ve looked everywhere. Asked everyone. It’s gone.”

“Then you won't find that again. It will have been thrown over the side and resting at the bottom of the ocean by now,” Fantômas grumbled. Lupin winced with the news.

With a mewling groan, Zenith began to wake up and even tried to get up on his elbows.   
“Don’t even think about it,” Lupin warned with a soft smile, pressing on his shoulder to keep him down.

“Ugh…Why, may I ask, do I have an audience surrounding my bed?" Zenith mumbled as he blinked hard, trying to help his eyes adjust to the light.   
“Well, two hours and ten minutes ago you decided to drink poisoned brandy,” Lupin answered for him, glancing at his watch.   
“Ah… it wasn’t the best year to be honest,” Zenith remarked groggily.

Looking to his left, Lupin saw Nyctalope staring at Zenith in surprise. Lupin couldn’t help but smile. That was how he could tell if Zenith was alright - his attitude. Nothing could shake Monsieur Zenith, not even the fear of death. If he was ever in a state, then Lupin would know that something was dreadfully wrong. He hoped that that day did not come any time soon.

“Is there any water? I feel like I’ve swallowed a hedgehog… hold the poison this time if you’d please,” Zenith asked.  
“I’ll go and fetch you some,” Lupin offered as he headed towards the door.  
“Tell Robur I want a pay rise for saving his life,” Zenith said, as he settled down in the bed.  
Lupin snapped around, stopping in his tracks. “What was that you said, Monsieur?”

Nyctalope also realised. “The drink I poured was for Robur- the bottle is Robur’s. Only Zenith poured himself a taste." He seemed uneasy, and took to itching the inside of his hand. It escaped no one’s notice.  
“And you said the bottle was gone... Just when I thought the dust was starting to settle,” Lupin sighed.

Silence filled the room, but Nyctalope had three pairs of eyes staring at him, almost burning his skin with their gazes. Lupin broke his gaze first.  
“I’ll go and get you a drink, Zenith. Nyctalope, I'd like to talk to you. Come with me please,” he instructed after a moment.

He followed Lupin out, clearing his throat. They headed across the deck until they came to the kitchen. The cook was out fishing with a net whilst they were over the water and so they had complete privacy. For a few tense seconds, neither spoke.

“The finger is pointing to you, you realise?” Lupin said as he poured out a glass of water.   
"And… what do you think?" Nyctalope asked, swallowing hard. He stood with his arms folded.   
Lupin tried hard to read him. He shrugged, "Well, I fail to see a motive. I also know that you're a good man. Still, I may as well ask, did you do it?"  
"No, of course not," Nyctalope exclaimed. “I know as much about this as you do.”

"Then I believe you. I will find out who did this. Everyone on this ship had the chance to poison that bottle. You needn’t worry, I’ll speak to Robur and iron out any kinks."

Nyctalope nodded with a smile of gratitude. He seemed to take comfort in knowing he was not alone in this confusion. Still, this problem was not so easily remedied. If Nyctalope didn’t do it, then who had?


	24. Promises

**Chapter 24 - Promises  
** _**The** _ **_Nautilus_ ** **, Red Sea: September 20th**

Eight days after leaving Belgium, Sawyer was sick of waiting to arrive at Island X. They still had another ten days worth of waiting. The first few days had only passed with ease as there was Quatermain to catch up with and explain everything to. There had been a lot to get through; he hadn’t known about Skinner’s burns, that Dorian had indeed died. He hadn’t known the League was now recognised as official by the Government and of course, he had not known Nemo’s past had come back to haunt him.

All was explained now and as happy as Sawyer was to have his company again, it made waiting no easier.

The two were up on the conning tower, enjoying the tranquillity of the sunset and the sweet ocean breeze. Sawyer stood, hiding the bottom half of his face in his folded arms that rested on the railing. Time passed too slowly, and he had never been patient. This was different too, he wasn’t waiting for the Sunday Service to finish so he could go and play. He wasn’t waiting for his day at work to be done so he could go home. He was waiting over two weeks to get to an island so he could try to save his friends, perhaps even save their lives. 

“I hate this,” Sawyer said, breaking the silence.  
“Hate what?” Quatermain asked from his chair. He seemed calm and collected and it was a mystery as to how he could find such patience.  
“Waitin around.” Sawyer straightened up. “There's gotta be somethin’ useful for me to do in the meanwhile rather than worryin’. I’m driving myself mad.”

“About Nemo?”  
“Well yeah, but I mean about the rescue. We got one shot at this and we gotta be fast. God knows what could go wrong if Robur gets his chance.”  
Quatermain sat up straight. “We'll be careful, lad. But as for occupying your time, can Pavan not give you something to do?”  
“I was hoping to try and plan ahead for the rescue, but I'd need maps and I doubt Nemo would have kept any.”  
Quatermain smiled with what Sawyer hoped was admiration. “Well if you don't ask you don't get. Perhaps Pavan can remember some of the layouts.”

Sawyer scratched his head, being sure to avoid the healing wound. “Maybe, but it’s been a long time so I doubt he'd remember anything of use. Besides, I'd rather not bother him with something like that if I can help it. He has enough on his mind.”  
Quiet fell upon them again. Sawyer hoped his creativity could come up with an answer. He thought back through everything that had happened, what had been said, and what had been done. An idea came to him, faint as it was. “The book…”

He began to pace “Maybe… just maybe.”  
“You've an idea?” Quatermain inquired.  
“There's no guarantee. But-” he stopped himself, remembering his promise to Ishmael. He had to keep that promise but did things change now that the League knew the truth? He sighed, “but it's all I've got to go on for now.”

Sawyer turned as the door creaked open. It was Pavan, the newest acting captain. “Good evening, Mr Sawyer, Mr Quatermain. The Nautilus will be diving soon if you wouldn't mind returning below.”  
Quatermain got up from his seat, making a gesture of what he should do with it.  
“I'll sort it,” Sawyer said. The hunter seemed to understand that he wanted to talk to Pavan and so slipped away.

As he'd said he would, he folded the chair up. “Pavan, I need to ask you something. It's about the Island.”  
“Of course,” he said, keeping his voice low.  
“I was wondering if you had any documents still from it, anything we could use to plan something out?”   
Pavan frowned “I'm afraid not, Sir. At least, not that I am aware of.”

Sawyer cleared his throat as he leaned the chair against the railings. “I had a thought before… uh, do you know what Nemo thought had been stolen before he was taken?”  
Pavan looked away a moment but he looked back again with a flash of discomfort on his face. “Yes, I know what it is you speak of.”  
“Good… y’see, Ishmael showed me the book, and he said that if I needed to look at it again, I could. And I think I need to. I'm hoping there are at least some drawings that could help.”  
“Yes, Ishmael confided in me. But I'm afraid you will be unable to view it. The book is locked away… only Captain Nemo and Ishmael knew the combination.”

“Did I hear one of my least favourite words?” Skinner grinned as he made it to the top of the ladder. He stopped. “Sorry if I've barged up here. I'd come to find Quatermain.”  
Pavan bowed his head, excluding himself from the conversation.  
“You missed him by a minute,” Sawyer said.   
“Oh…” He looked over to Pavan, who was closer to the balcony. “Is something wrong?”  
“No, no. Just uh… there's something I could have done with seeing, but it's locked and no one knows the code.”

“I could take a crack at it?” he offered.   
Sawyer shook his head “It's Nemo's, y’see? I feel bad enough as it is having to look.”  
Skinner straightened up. “His chest by any chance?”  
“Yeah,” Sawyer said in surprise. “How'd you-”  
“I haven't been snooping,” he said with his hands up in mock surrender. “I just saw Ishmael there the night he was taken. He hadn’t been able to keep away the few days beforehand. I was going to tell him about it but, well, Fantômas had other ideas.”  
“Tell him what?” Sawyer asked, loud enough for Pavan to hear and turn. They exchanged glances.

“The night when we made it to Belgium. The alarms got raised pretty quick and as I went through the hallway I saw Nemo's door was open. I was just going to shut it but I saw Ishmael was inside. He was kneeling by the chest and he had it open. I told him what was happening and he hurried out - he never had time to lock the chest again.”  
“Convenient,” Sawyer remarked.  
“As I said, I’ve seen him there a few times. No clue what he keeps looking for,” Skinner said.

Sawyer looked at Pavan. Their acting captain nodded, giving him the all clear to go and see. Perhaps Ishmael had struggled with his memories and looking at the book again had given him some sort of comfort. Feeling hopeful, he directed Skinner to wait at the bottom of the ladder. He did so, and so Sawyer was able to pass him down Quatermain’s folded chair, before climbing down himself, followed by Pavan who sealed the door tight behind them.

“I think Quatermain might have gone to his room,” Sawyer said to Skinner. He hoped Skinner would realise that for the time being this was a more private matter. He seemed to, for he left without a fuss. Sawyer hated having to hide things like this but he had to honour his promises.

This time Sawyer led the way by about a strides length. Pavan seemed even more hesitant to do this than Ishmael. 

Sawyer dismissed his thoughts as he came to Nemo's door once again. He opened it and offered for Pavan to go inside first. He did so with reluctance.  
“Mr Skinner was right. Ishmael did leave it open. He'd even left his handkerchief by mistake…” Pavan’s voice trailed off as he crouched down to pick it up.

“Pavan?”  
“It is nothing. I am only concerned for their well being. They do not deserve what they now endure, whatever that may be...”  
Sawyer sighed and sat down beside the chest once more. “I know, but we'll get em back. They’re going to be alright.”  
“I hope you're right.”

Pavan moved back and allowed Sawyer to collect the book from its resting place. He handled it with as much care as he was capable of and shut the chest again.  
“I must leave now to prepare the ship for diving. Should you require anything, do not hesitate to find me,” Pavan said, leaving him alone.  
Sawyer turned back to the precious bundle of paper and leather in his hands. “Sorry about this, Captain,” he murmured, opening the book. The first page read:

_ For our dearest daughter, Janni,  
_ _ Happy Birthday,  
_ _ With love from your mother and father   
_ _ and Ishmael  _

“Please have some answers for me, kid.” Sawyer turned through the pages looking for anything of use. A great portion of the book contained patterns, pages dedicated to nautilus shells and other shapes where it seemed someone had tried to teach her how to draw simple outlines of things. Ishmael had been right. If she had grown up, she would have truly had a talent for drawing. It occurred to Sawyer, that she may not have remembered or never seen some of these things before. There was everything from houses, elephants, even a few sweet attempts at people. 

The more he looked the more his heart hurt. These drawings were not what he imagined any child having to draw. Where were the fields, the sun, moon and happy faces? But Sawyer tried not to pay attention to those. They weren't his business. He only needed the scenes.

He was glad when he finally came across something of value. It looked to be the view from a window, and it showed cliffs along a beach and rocks, perhaps no bigger than a house that emerged from the sea. Sawyer wondered if they could use that to their advantage somehow- a means of getting closer if only the conning tower was at the surface. But at turning to page again, he found folded pieces of paper that fell onto his lap.

He swore, fearing they had fallen from the spine, but they did not belong to the book. He placed the book safely on the chest and with a deep breath, he unfolded the worn and washed paper. He hissed out a yes. They were professional illustrations of the Albatross’ interior and some segments of the island itself. “Now what are you doing in here?” he said to himself.

“Could ask you the same thing,” Skinner, dressed, suddenly said behind him. Sawyer jumped in alarm, but not with the same aggression as the first time he had scared him.  
“Dammit, Skinner. Come on, I could've broken something!”  
“What? I saw Pavan come away from here looking a bit fidgety. I wanted to check you were alright- oh, and Quatermain was following me, so you know. He'll be here in a second.”  
“M’fine. Just don't be sneaking up on me like that. I'm trying to work.” He sighed. “Look, I don't wanna be rude but you can't stay here- I shouldn't even really be here.”

It was at that moment Quatermain came to the door. “Is he bothering you, lad?”  
Skinner waved them off. “I'll go. I was just wondering what you're doing- you've gone all secretive. First with Ishmael and now this.”  
Sawyer put the papers down. He didn't want to have to explain all of this. He didn't even know if Nemo would take offence at just him knowing about it, and he'd promised Ishmael. “Look, I can't really say, but you don't need to worry about it.”

“What do you mean you can't say? I thought we were all team-”  
“We are-” Sawyer tried to reason.  
“Then why are you even amongst Nemo’s things?” Skinner threw his arms in the air to gesture to the room. “Why are you hiding so much from us all?”  
“I just can’t tell you right now.”  
Skinner scoffed “What? You don't trust us? Is that it? Am I still the deviant on board no one trusts their purse with?!”  
“No! Nothing like that! I trust you with my life!”  
“Then what?!” Skinner shouted.

“Enough,” Quatermain warned, cancelling out their raising voices.  
Sawyer sighed, shaking his head. “Skinner… Look, I've promised not to tell anyone about all of this. It's Nemo's private-”  
“The book,” Skinner said, eyeing it up on the chest. “Is that what was stolen?”

Sawyer had to nod, he couldn't straight out lie. “I don't know if he wants this talked about, so I can't say much else. I promised Ishmael. The only reason I'm here is that I'm trying to see if there’s anything that can help us get them back.” He showed the two of them one of the pieces of paper with the plans on.

The heat was off, but that didn't rid the room of the steam. Skinner stepped back. “Now was that so hard?”  
Sawyer looked at him, unsure of what to say. He didn't have time to. Skinner left, slipping past Quatermain with loud grumbles.

Quatermain stepped into the room. “Sorry about him, my boy. I think the worry is getting to him. I’ll have a word.”  
Sawyer shrugged picking the book back up and opening it. Quatermain couldn't see what was inside and he made no attempt to. “Don't worry about it- can’t say I don’t deserve it,” Sawyer answered with a glum face.  
“No lad, you don't. You're doing as you think best… I'll leave you to get on.”  
Sawyer looked up and nodded with a half-smile. “Thanks.”

Quatermain closed the door most of the way behind him. Sawyer focused back on his work, but the book was painful to look at, even without knowing the girl. So much of it seemed oblivious to any harm. He wondered if Nemo had tried to protect her from knowing what was happening- to the threat that loomed over her. Sawyer's chest felt full and it was almost at the brim of his eyes. Then he reached the last few pages. He felt awful for looking and finding nothing of use to aid the rescue, he was just a nosey intruder.

He gave up with a few pages left but as he put it on the top of the chest to pick up the more promising papers, it slipped and landed open on its spine. Sawyer scooped it up quickly, finding it open on the very last page. As his eyes met the paper he found he couldn't move. He swallowed hard with his face contorted in horror. Bile churned in his stomach.

There, drawn with charcoal was a picture of Robur, wide-shouldered, strong, and given a grotesque face: with pointed teeth and wide monster-like eyes and with claws on his hands. But that was not what had startled him so. It was the bloodied fingerprints that stained the book, small fingers. Sawyer rubbed his nose and mouth with his hand. He had to learn everything he could about this Island before he got there. He  _ had _ to get them out.

“Man, I hope we ain't too late…”

* * *

_**The** _ **_Nautilus:_ ** **September 22nd**

Jekyll and the rest of the League had gathered in the library, all seated together. Pavan was also present. He seemed to be tired on that particular morning. He battled back stray yawns as they struggled to develop a course of action to free Nemo and Ishmael. They were about halfway there. The hours felt stretched and heavy, and although Jekyll was busy caring for the wounded, waiting took its toll on Hyde’s patience.

But, little by little, they drew closer to the island. The need for a plan was growing stronger. It would have to be clever and cunning, managing to play strength against weakness and yet not have them falling susceptible to attack. It wasn’t going to be easy. Almost every idea came with a flaw and it was disheartening for Jekyll. He wished he could be more useful in bringing an idea together.

Jekyll sat back in his seat and took out his pocket watch, turning it over in his hands absentmindedly, hoping something would come to him. He glanced down to see Hyde’s face staring at him through the reflection.

_ This is no different from Mongolia, Jekyll. Why must you all try to make this more difficult than it needs to be? Let me out at the front door and we’ll force our way in! _ _   
_ Jekyll covered the metal with his hand.  _ This is different in every aspect, Edward. Please, try to understand. Being detected might put them more at risk-/  
_ _ Poppycock,  _ Hyde grumbled.

“Our main problem is we’re going in blind,” Skinner pointed out, drawing Jekyll’s attention to the pacing leather coat. “If I could somehow sneak in as I did in Mongolia, then we wouldn’t have much trouble in finding our way around. It's no good though, the Nautilus would be seen.” Skinner stopped with his pacing, leaning against the back of Sawyer's seat. Sawyer turned his head slightly to look at him, but then quickly looked away.

The two seemed to have grown closer at first since Sawyer had come back, as though there was a wider degree of understanding between them. But now Jekyll couldn't deny the slight frost between them. It had occurred all of a sudden only days ago. He could not understand why.  
“I could get you there, under the cover of night the Nautilus wouldn't be so noticeable at a distance,” Mina explained.

Pavan straightened himself up and spoke “Some of the crewmen, including myself, know their way around the Island. I think we may need to be more concerned about how we are going to organise ourselves to find the two of them. I'd expect him to be in the main building, but if he is not there will be much more ground to cover. I do not know what improvements Robur has made to the Island since.”

_ Dim-witted!  _ Hyde hissed.  _ Can't they see they’re going in circles?  
_ _ Hush, or I will leave,  _ Jekyll warned. That seemed to quieten him for the time being.

"We'll manage. We'll comb over the entire Island if we have to," Sawyer asserted, sending a reassuring glance in Pavan's direction.

"If all else fails, we'll just have to ask nicely for directions," Skinner remarked with a hint of a smirk.  
“Splitting up is our better chance. We can cover more ground in less time. They may not know I'm alive, either- or Sawyer. We'll have to try to make the most of that,” Quatermain reminded them.  
“If we're to do that, then I’ve a feeling Skinner’ll have to teach some of us how to pick a lock,” Sawyer pointed out.  
“That’s a ten minute job,” he said, but to Jekyll, he didn’t look entirely enthusiastic. It seemed as though Skinner had been trying to avoid the agent.

_ Jekyll, talk some sense into these fools. It's not going to make a difference. Think about it!  
_ _ What are you talking about? _ Jekyll asked, his attention falling back to the back of the watch.  
_ We have to break the ship! _ Hyde shouted, losing his patience. Jekyll flinched.

Quatermain nodded to the others but noticed Jekyll's distracted look. "Something wrong?" he inquired.  
The doctor cleared his throat. "Hyde is... concerned about the Albatross’ part in our planning.”  
This statement captured and retained the attention of everyone present. Jekyll didn't like so many eyes focusing on him all at once. It was unsettling.

“How so?” Quatermain asked.  
_ Clip its wings or else it will fly off with them both! _ Hyde explained.  
“Hyde believes if we do not stop her when we arrive, then she may leave, carrying Nemo and Ishmael with her. Am I correct in recalling that the Albatross is able to ascertain greater speeds than the Nautilus?”

“Yes,” Pavan said. “The Albatross is the faster of the two and by no small part.”  
“Then you're both right,” Quatermain said, referring to Jekyll and Hyde. “First and foremost, we must cut off their only chance of escape. We clip the wings, and that would give us more time. Thank you, Hyde.”  
“We will do everything we can if we’re given that task,” Jekyll said. Jekyll felt Hyde smile inside of him, and he himself felt better in participating. The slight uplift didn't last.

“How do you actually know all this, Pavan? About the Island and the Albatross, I mean. Ishmael didn't really explain how you all knew Robur,” Skinner ventured. “Who are we dealing with here exactly?”

Pavan could not hold back a grimace. This was Nemo’s past, his greatest secret. Just like Ishmael, he was reluctant to speak. “Robur captured Captain Nemo, Ishmael and I, as well as many others. We... We were forced to build the Nautilus, constantly in fear our families would be killed if we disobeyed… When the Nautilus was complete years later we tried to rebel and take the ship from Robur. We managed but,” Pavan stopped himself.

“But?” Skinner asked.  
“The cost was immeasurable. Nemo’s wife Maliha was slaughtered, so was Janni- Nemo’s daughter. Ishmael also lost his wife. I was fortunate, I had no one to lose, but I knew their families well…. It broke the captain. The deaths pained us all for many years- they still do.”

The League was mortified at what they heard.

Jekyll felt cold, but ignoring the scorch of Hyde's anger was impossible. He watched as Mina gripped onto her gloves with all her strength and seemed to struggle to soothe a snarl. Quatermain made less of an effort to hide a wince but looked away, likely thinking of his own child. Skinner held a stony expression with brows furrowed, arms crossed and a half clenched hand covering his mouth. His expression seemed fixed upon Sawyer, as though something had clicked into place.

Sawyer was lost in sour thoughts, holding his head in his hands and staring at the floor.   
_ He knew, _ Hyde realised.  _ He didn't tell us!  _ But Jekyll could see the surprise on his face, the horrible look of his fears being confirmed.  
_ No _ … _ maybe not everything. _

Now they knew. Jekyll understood Nemo and Ishmael’s pain and hatred. He felt their fear at the very name that had loomed over them like a storm cloud several weeks earlier. He realised just how far into the midst of the storm they were.

The conversation began to crawl along again, with everyone all the more determined to find a solution to their problems. Jekyll zoned out for a moment and found himself looking back at his watch, back to Edward.

_ Did I say I'd do anything, Henry? It’s a good thing your guess was right, otherwise, you'd be looking rather foolish.  
_ _ You already told me you wanted revenge. I want Nemo and Ishmael to return safely. I don't say this often but the League are your priority, do whatever it takes to protect them. I mean anything.  
_ __ Oh, believe me, I will...


	25. An Oath of Innocence

**Chapter 25 - An Oath of Innocence  
** **Island X, September 24th**

The Mysterious Men had, at last, arrived at Island X in the small hours of the morning. They had unpacked their things from the Albatross and had settled back in the fortress for the time being. Nemo and Ishmael were still aboard. The plan was back on track, or so Robur hoped.

He spent most of that time at the rain-soaked window of his cabin, thinking about the poisoning yesterday and hoping there were no other incidents. He watched as Nyctalope carried his things away to the fortress, talking with his friends. Lupin had made it very clear that the guilty party could be someone else. Robur understood that, but he could not help but eye him with suspicion. He mulled over the facts in his mind, considering the possibilities.

Robur shook his head. One problem was resolved, but a new one had taken its place.

He tried not to dwell any further on the matter. Not yet. More evidence would have to come to light and he trusted Lupin to find it. Until then he had other far more pleasant priorities. There was a certain someone he could not wait to see again. Deciding to waste no more time, he picked up his thick leather raincoat and left the gentle quiet of his room, heading outside into the heavy downpour.

* * *

**(*A Little While Later*)**

The fortress was a few miles away from the gulf of the island, but the sea was visible from the fortress. The rock had begun to erode and vegetation had snaked its way into the walls. Carved amongst it all was the fortress. It was even larger than it seemed as more of the building was underground and built into the rocky hills. The rocks were dark in colour and slippery, unscalable, and it was no mean feat to destroy them either.

This fortress was built to endure and endure it did.

Lupin, silken top hat on his head and wrapped up tight in his coat, approached Robur under one of the small shelters. The shelters, made of brick and the size of sheds, helped to keep some of the weather off the men if they were to take a break. Standing outside unprotected in this weather was intolerable.

Robur made way for Lupin so he could squeeze in the doorway of the shelter with him.

“Of all the Islands in the world, you chose one of the coldest and wettest ones in existence,” Lupin pointed out. He rubbed his hands together and breathed on them to try to warm them. He folded his arms to hide his hands.  
Robur answered, “It’s hardly the coldest. But it means less visitors and less trouble.”  
“Yes, well, speaking of trouble, when would you like for me to move our guests?”  
“Not yet. I've asked Fantômas to check over the rooms again. I won’t take any risks.”  


“Do you plan on having them in neighbouring cells?”  
Robur took to lighting a cigar to warm himself up. His matchbox was half soaked. There was no chance of obtaining a flame with those, so he put them back in his pocket. “No, why do you ask?”  
Lupin shrugged. “I imagine you would get better working rates, that's all.”

Robur furrowed his brow. “Is this something you would recommend that I do, putting them together?”   
Lupin nodded, offering him a dry pack of matches from his own pocket. Robur thanked him.  
“I imagine that threatening Nemo will do little good and only prove to annoy him, and Ishmael. Perhaps rewarding what he does, rather than punishing what he does not, will yield better results,” Lupin explained.

Robur thought for a moment as he managed to light his cigar, but seeing Nyctalope out of the corner of his vision caught his attention. He turned to face him and puffed away, unable to break his focus on him. Nyctalope was standing on a balcony a good distance away at the fortress, watching them both.

He wore no coat and his blue shirt was becoming darker as the rain claimed it. What was he doing? Robur felt unease trying to creep up his spine. He didn't like any of this, knowing someone was potentially plotting against him whilst he remained oblivious to their name. “And you don’t expect Nemo to try to devise an escape plan?” Robur eventually asked, looking back to his second in command.

Lupin noticed his staring and watched too, but the winds began to increase, rattling in their ears. They were both forced to turn away as the rain pelted off their faces with the change in wind direction. Lupin brought a hand to his brow to keep the rain from his eyes. “I won’t say it’s impossible yet I doubt they'll try anything. They’ll know there’s no way out. Most of the fight already seems knocked out of them.”

Robur ignored the weather and said “Well, you can try... Have you found anything new in terms of the poisoning?”   
“No, nothing yet. I’m not sure what to think of the whole matter-”

A bang sounded in the distance. A bullet yanked its way through the air and smashed into the bricks beside them. Lupin ducked out of instinct with a sharp yelp of alarm, covering his head with his arms. He froze for a moment out of fear.

Robur didn’t hesitate to act. "Move!" he bellowed, shoving Lupin behind the wall. Lupin lost his balance and ended up sprawled out on the floor but out of range. A secondary shot whizzed past Robur’s ear as he took cover. He pressed himself against the wall. Lupin scrambled to his feet, leaving his hat on the ground.

“What the devil?” Robur hissed. He had seen no shooter. He could hear nothing, nothing but the snarling wind and the pounding of his pulse. Lupin took out his pocket watch and slowly slipped his hand out into the open, using the reflection from its case to check the coast was clear. Robur could see a clear tremble in his fingers and had to steady his arm to check it was safe.

“Easy, Ars ène, ” he murmured to him.

Damn them! Whoever it was, startling Lupin like that, scaring the life out of him! Oh, how easy it had been to scare him after everything he’d been through. Robur needed Lupin to have his thoughts about him. "Take your time."  
Lupin licked his lips in apprehension. He slipped out from behind the wall first, then after an uneasy moment gestured for Robur to follow. The pair of them dared to move out further from behind the wall to look. Nyctalope was now on the roof of the fortress, carrying a gun in his hand. He was running as fast as the weather would permit him to. For a moment they both stood and stared.

Robur could feel the anger rising in his veins. What was he doing?! He couldn’t further the thought; Nyctalope slipped off the roof, clawing at the slates to find a handhold.  “Get a man up there,” Robur ordered. Someone who’d been drawn out by the shooting took off running to help.  
Relief washed over them when Nyctalope was able to grab a handful of guttering. He still slipped off the roof and hit the wall hard, holding on with only one hand. He wouldn't let go of the gun.

Nyctalope fought to climb back up. Lupin couldn't help but mutter words of encouragement, as though it would somehow stop him from falling to a likely death. With his strength failing, Nyctalope threw the gun back onto the roof, freeing his hand to find extra grip. He flailed his legs around, desperate to find a foothold but met only air.

There was no other choice; using brute strength, he had to lift himself up. Once he was most of the way up he was able to swing a leg around to take the pressure off his arms. It was only then he was able to clamber up and roll to safety. Lupin heaved a sigh of relief. Robur released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

For a few moments, Nyctalope lay on the roof, letting the rain bounce off him, catching his breath.

Robur turned to look at Lupin. No words needed to be exchanged, they were both baffled, both suspicious- both concerned. Had he just tried to shoot them in broad daylight? Robur tensed his jaw, his gaze falling onto the great dent in the wall beside him. It was then that Nyctalope began to head back to his balcony, where the man he had sent up met him.

“By Jove,” Lupin murmured, “this... puts a pretty twist on things.”

Lupin hurried over to the worn-out hero. Hero. Could Robur even call him that now? Had he ever called him that? Nyctalope was dripping wet and chilled to the bone. He had collected a cut on his head and lip. Robur guessed the gash on his head had been from when he hit the wall. He couldn't help but notice how Nyctalope kept one hand on the wound on his chest with a deep wince. Robur decided to keep his distance for the time being. He tucked his hands behind him, squeezing his knuckles on one hand.

“What happened?” Lupin exclaimed, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to give him to apply to his cuts and grazes.  
Nyctalope put it straight on his chest with a slight groan.  “I'm not sure. I was on the balcony. There was a shooter above me. He fired two shots and I went after him but it was no good. The winds were bad and I slipped. But he dropped this on the balcony, although I didn’t get a good look at him,” he explained, gesturing to the gun. He stayed alert, his gaze creeping away from the two of them and up to the roof.

“Are you alright?” Lupin asked. Nyctalope nodded though Lupin wasn't convinced. He handed the gun to Lupin who opted to examine it, hoping to find something of interest.

The story did not satisfy Robur. He stepped in. “Why would he drop the gun, so conveniently at your feet, Saint-Clair? Why should I trust what you say?” Robur asked. His voice was heavy and carried danger. He made no attempt at hiding it. Nyctalope couldn't help but swallow hard. Lupin frowned and dipped his brow. Whether it was disapproval or realization of his point, Robur didn't know. It didn't matter. 

“I have just been running across rooftops trying to catch the person responsible for this. How else do you think I got all of these scratches?” Nyctalope answered, being sure his tone carried no defiance. Robur didn't trust the almost docile and innocent look. He had no faith in the look of betrayal in his eyes. He knew how easy it could be to lie.  
“Yes, we both saw you, but I most certainly did not see any other gunman,” Robur said.   
“If you are accusing me of this, then say so, Monsieur. I did not do this and I am insulted that you think me capable of it!” Nyctalope countered. He was beginning to shiver and was in great pain. Lupin looked eager to get him inside and patched up. There was little doubt that Nyctalope had reopened his bullet wound.

“Nyctalope, come along. Now is not the time,” Lupin said, hoping to blow out the candle before it grew into a wildfire.  
“No, Monsieur Lupin. I think now is a perfect time. Why would I shoot at Robur? Why would I run on the roof, especially seeing the state of it? If I wanted to hide I'd have gone into my room.”

Robur noted how his calm attitude didn't last long. As soon as he'd been challenged he'd grown defensive. Would an innocent man do that? Robur was determined to have the truth. “Both attempts on my life have had you nearby along with an ample opportunity to test your luck against me. I don't believe in coincidences.”

“Of course I’ve been nearby- there’s nowhere else I could be! You have no evidence whatsoever pinning me to either attempt, only poorly based assumptions,” Nyctalope pointed out. He tensed his jaw. He stepped a little closer to the captain. Robur was not phased by the increasing tension. He was not in the least intimidated or uncomfortable, but he was annoyed. He stood fearlessly, looking Nyctalope in the eye. He had no intention of backing away from this. Neither did Nyctalope.

By this point, a small crowd was beginning to gather. Fantômas and Nyctalope's two friends had come to see what was wrong. Rene Coqui’s blond hair looked brown from the water. Jean Degains was Nyctalope’s second companion present, his reddish hair was plastered to his face due to the rain. His green eyes seemed to glint like lightning as he braced himself for some sort of upcoming conflict. Robur didn't know if Nyctalope would make this physical, though he doubted it. That would suggest guilt. Still, he could hold his own if anything happened.

Robur settled his gaze back on Nyctalope. “Then why are you so defensive?”  
Nyctalope scoffed in disbelief. “What do you expect? You’re the one throwing accusations at me after I tried to catch the real culprit! Why would I kill the man who is the only reason I am here in the first place? Robur, why are you turning against me?” Nyctalope’s voice betrayed him. Robur could hear the disappointment in his voice as it faltered. That final question almost caught him off guard but he wiped it aside- it could easily be a guilt tactic.

“Enough, the pair of you,” Lupin spoke up, stepping between the two of them. Whilst the commotion had stilled, he began. “Neither Robur or I saw any other shooter on that roof-”  
“But-” Nyctalope began.  
“ _ But, _ we also never saw you aim that gun at us. As a result, we cannot trust what we witnessed. There is no efficient evidence that Nyctalope shot at you, Robur.”  
“There is also no evidence that he didn't,” Robur observed. His beard and moustache had changed colour and into a darker grey due to the rain. He could feel little droplets dripping from the wiry hair and down his collar.

“I did not do this!” Nyctalope shouted.  
“Enough I say!” Lupin softened his tone. “Coqui, Degains, would you be so kind as to take Nyctalope inside and get him cleaned up? Make sure Champeau treats his chest again. Please, go inside until we get this sorted.”

Degains stepped up and began to lead his friend away with Rene’s help. Nyctalope seemed a little dizzy on his feet but could still walk by himself. Nyctalope did not resist but he was still aggravated by what was happening.

Just as Nyctalope was almost out of earshot, Robur shook his head and grumbled “I'm beginning to trust that boy less and less.”  
Nyctalope heard what was said and he was not the kind to let things settle. “The feeling is mutual,” he shouted over his shoulder.  
Robur was about to speak but Lupin intervened, putting his hand on Robur's chest for a second. “Leave it. Let's get out of this wretched rain. Lèon, I won’t tell you again- inside!”

The two men went their separate ways with great reluctance. Robur went back to the Albatross, leaving Lupin in the rain alone. Lupin followed neither of them straight away. Instead, he turned around to see Fantômas leaning against the shelter, keeping himself somewhat dry. He still wore that mask which was beginning to annoy Lupin. What he'd give to see the face of that man.

“What brought all that on?” Fantômas questioned, with a curious tone to his voice. “I heard shots and ended up amongst an argument.”  
Lupin headed back under the shelter with Fantômas and explained what little he knew about what had happened. The news surprised him.  
“The disagreements were to be expected. But do you suspect Saint-Clair of attempted murder?”

Lupin sighed. He couldn’t ignore the facts suggesting guilt. They were growing in number. “I don’t know. I need the full story. Nyctalope is not the kind to lose his head like that, although I can hardly blame him. Perhaps something happened whilst we were away. We heard Robur had placed a few flags while we were gone,” Lupin wondered out loud. He ruffled his hair to get some of the rain off. Seeing his hat on the floor, he tried to dust it off. He mumbled a complaint at its condition, before tucking it under his arm.

“Speaking of which, Nemo and his first mate are ready to be moved off the Albatross,” Fantômas reported.  
“I'll take them soon. You ought to tell your men to be on the alert. Someone wants Robur out of the picture and I can't help but wonder if they're using Nyctalope to mask their scent.”   
“Don’t let his act fool you. You’re growing soft, Lupin, and you very well may make a mistake which costs someone their lives.”  
“I’ll look into it.”

Fantômas nodded to himself and walked away, back towards the buildings. Lupin followed soon after, taking his time to get there. Nyctalope needed time to calm down and the sharp droplets carried on the wind helped to clear his mind. He was already wet so the extra rain made little difference. When Lupin arrived he locked the gun in a cupboard in his room, left his hat and coat to dry, and got changed into a new shirt and trousers.

By Jove, those gunshots had almost scared him silly. He was lucky Robur had the sense to drag him out of the way.  _ Stupid, stupid, stupid! _ He thought to himself. He should have been better than that. His nerves were more frayed than he thought.

After making sure he’d calmed down, he went to find Nyctalope. Lupin knocked on the door to Nyctalope’s room. Degains opened it. “Monsieur Lupin.”   
“May I come in?”  
Degains glanced back into the room before opening the door wide and gesturing for him to enter.

Coqui was not there. He was no doubt looking for Robert Champeau. Nyctalope looked to be waiting for him. He had changed from his soaked clothes to fresh dry trousers. He left his shirt off as the blood was oozing down and would have needlessly stained the fabric. The wound on his chest had opened more than Lupin expected. He could see blood had trickled all the way down to his waist.

Lupin stepped inside and Degains closed the door behind him. Nyctalope had taken to washing his hands and face with a bowl of warm water, getting the thick of the grime and blood off. He kept wiping his lip to get the blood off and washed his bleeding head. The endless amounts of cuts on his hands had him wincing as he worked. His skin was red from where the hot and met the cold, but his temper seemed to be cooling off. The number of faint circular burns on his neck, under his arms, and his torso in general were too great in number to go unnoticed. He tried his best not to look. 

“What is it, Monsieur?” Nyctalope asked though he seemed uninterested. He took to drying himself with a towel and then using the other side to hold against his chest. “I'm not here to accuse you if that's what you expect. I do require certain details, however.” Degains leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.  
Nyctalope shrugged. "You know as much as I."  
“You're usually a level headed lad, so where did that outburst come from? Don't try to tell me all that anger was from an accusation, despite its seriousness,” Lupin asked. He went further into the room, closer to him.

“We've had a few disagreements recently. It's nothing,” Nyctalope answered, turning to face away from the thief, pretending to be preoccupied with his wound.  
Lupin needed answers. He wasn’t getting out of it that easily. “Well, if it's nothing you won't mind telling me about it, will you?”

Nyctalope sighed and looked up from his work.  “Robur placed a flag or two when you were away.” Then he looked down again. “I tried to tell him that the League would notice it but he wouldn't listen. The discussion turned more personal and heated up a little.”

“How personal?” Lupin asked.  
“I told him he was being foolish and putting his whole Island at risk. He told me to keep my nose out and that…”  
“Go on.”  
Nyctalope took a deep breath. “He made comments about my… leadership, and it felt like he was trying to put me at fault for some of what happened the first time my friends and I had a mission- to get my father's work back that is. He made it clear I wasn’t welcome in the Mysterious Men. I’m not sure if Robur knew how angry he made me. How angry he made all of us.” He looked at Degains, who nodded in agreement.

“I was annoyed,” he continued. “He's risked all our lives now, including my friends. I admit I lost my head when he argued the first time but I’ve been trying to make up for it. We haven't talked all that much since. I don't care if we have different opinions, but he is not accusing of such serious crimes which I did not do!”   
“I admit I didn't think Robur would be so… well, stupid. But still, you must calm yourself.”

It was then Champeau and Rene came to the door and entered. Nyctalope was told to lie on the bed whilst the young nurse took to treating Nyctalope’s injuries, particularly his chest and hands. For a while, they were quiet, save for Robert scolding Nyctalope for getting himself into this state.

Lupin decided then was the best time to resume the conversation.

“When you were on the roof, what did you see? Be as specific as you can if you don’t mind.”  
“I didn't see much. I heard a tile slide and could hear something, someone loading a gun, I now realise. I jumped out of the way after the first shot was fired, thinking it was aimed at me. I tried to get after him after the second but then I slipped. I didn't see much of him, though I'm sure he wore dark clothes and had dark hair.”

“Do you suppose that the shooter saw you?”  
“I should say so. The balcony goes out quite a far way out whereas the roof doesn't. When I was climbing down I could see the balcony well before I was at the edge.”

Lupin nodded; his forehead revealed two slight little wrinkles as he concentrated and made heads and tails of the situation.

“Do you suppose someone is trying to frame him, Monsieur Lupin?” Rene asked.  
“It is possible. However, I cannot say who is responsible yet. I need you four to keep your heads down for now. Be careful and look out for each other. Nyctalope, try not to argue with Robur. I’ll do whatever I can to clear your names but I need you to try to help yourselves. I will answer for everything, so long as you do exactly as I tell you.”

The four young men nodded to the thief. Lupin nodded back with a reassuring smile and a spark of life in his eye. He then took his leave, knowing there were many questions in need of answering.


	26. Checkpoint

**Chapter 26 - Checkpoint  
** **Island X, September 25th**

An uneasy day had passed since the shooting and Lupin was keen to uncover some answers to the great bombardment of questions that surrounded him. He knew where he needed to begin, but the rest of this affair seemed as clear and comprehensible to him as a murky puddle. He decided he'd need to find Zenith if he was to make progress. Zenith's disliking for monotony made him somewhat predictable and so Lupin's intuition led him outside. 

Zenith was indeed there, beside the shelter and inspecting the deep dents where the bullets had pierced the brick. Lupin noticed Zenith seemed to lean against his cane more than usual. Did the poison still have a sickly tendril wrapped around him?

“I thought I'd find you near here,” Lupin said, coming closer to him.  
“I don't appreciate being poisoned. I want those responsible for this- Lèon Saint-Clair or otherwise,” Zenith answered, his tone flat and his fingers twitching on the top of his cane.

“I'm sure we'll uncover the truth. I only hope that we do so before anything else can occur.”  
“You anticipate another attempt also?" Zenith arched an eyebrow and admitted "That makes three of us.”  
“Three?”  
Zenith inclined his head in the direction of the doorway. Fantômas was heading towards them, within hearing distance.  
“Right on cue. If we can't all find a solution to this then I'll feel inclined to retire,” Zenith remarked soberly.

Lupin made no attempt to hide his mild amusement. It was then Fantômas came close.  
“I'd rather retire on a successful note. Nyctalope has said we can see his balcony, though I am doubtful it will yield anything of value,” he said.

Lupin held up a gentle hand “Before we begin looking into the shooting I'd like to first inquire about the poisoning. I do not yet know what happened before you took ill, Zenith.”  
Zenith sighed and lit himself a cigarette. A faint scent of opium made it up to Lupin's nose, but a puff of wind began to drag it away again.  
“I went to the saloon and found Nyctalope to be pouring Robur a drink. We made conversation, which looking back was rather disconcerting.”

“What was said that concerned you?” Lupin asked as Zenith drew from his cigarette.  
“We spoke of how things were quietening down. I felt bored but Nyctalope was enjoying the rest. Then he said he didn't expect it to last." He shook his head "His expression was innocent enough yet I cannot disregard it, not with what followed.”  
The information did not sit well amongst any of them. “You asked for the drink, didn't you?” Lupin continued.  
“I'd wanted to try it, yes. He didn't seem to care that much, he slid it right over without hesitation or complaint.”

Fantômas said, “And after you collapsed?”  
“Of course I can't be certain but he gave the impression that he was startled. I dare say I could go as far as saying panicked, but I remember little else. The poison kicked in quick.”  
Fantômas did not seem satisfied “The boy has a knack for acting when he needs to.”

“Well, yes, but so can you and I. You can hardly say for certain he was responsible on that alone,” Lupin reminded him. He threw his hands in the air with a huff of breath. “By George, These attempts have come from nowhere!”  
“As far as we know,” Fantômas corrected. He came closer to the two and said, “My men have confided in me that Robur and Nyctalope were arguing, badly. But they do not know the topic of their quarrel.”

“A rather half-hearted motive,” Zenith pointed out.   
Fantômas shrugged. “That depends on what they argued about. It may have been the trigger. Learning which poison it was will help us determine if this was a premeditated attack. Until one of Robur’s chemists identifies the poison, he is the best suspect you have.”

“What are you hoping to learn from the type of poison?” Zenith asked.

“Premeditation and the level of planning. If it was something that was already on the ship we could say it was the spur of the moment. If not, things grow more complex. I’d still wager it was nicotine, and that is not easy to come by.”

“Nyctalope told me the arguing was because he questioned Robur placing the flag at Belgium. Then things grew personal. He told me he was angry, but still, this seems too out of character-”  
Fantômas folded his arms and said, “He was the last to handle Robur's poisoned bottle and when you ask for it it's nowhere to be found.”  
“Yet again, anyone could have done that. This is my concern for this whole affair thus far. A ship full of people and no one has noticed a thing. Aside from the poison in that cup, we have no solid evidence.”

“Why was he even running about doing Robur a favour? The boy has a gunshot wound,” Zenith thought out loud, shifting to the side and leaning against his stick.  
For that, Lupin had no answer. “He told me he was making amends.”  
“He said the same to me, but I’m not convinced,” Zenith said.  
Lupin shrugged, "I can only tell you what he has told me."

"You're sure it could not have been done at an earlier date?" Zenith pondered.

Lupin nodded. "Robur drank from that bottle several times beforehand. I'm certain of that- unless… unless someone had another bottle. I cannot say without it.”  
“The bottle was half full, but then that doesn't necessarily mean anything. It could have been tipped out to look the same. No, I fear we’re growing close to a dead end. I've questioned everyone. No one saw or is willing to admit to seeing anyone getting rid of the bottle or any odd behaviour,” Zenith sighed and looked up to the balcony. “Let us hope this second attempt has enabled some evidence to materialise.”

Zenith gestured for the two others to head inside with him. They did so, and as they walked Zenith began again, taking in the last of his cigarette. “A poisoning and a shooting… two very different methods, and the shooting itself! It seems a very amateur attempt. From quiet and discreet to clumsy and risky.”  
“Thankfully the shooter had terrible timing and chose an equally bad location. The wind must have pushed their bullet off-target,” Lupin said.  
Fantômas made it to the door first and opened it for the others. He said “Irrational. What, the shooting has been nothing but an attempt at a quick fix.”

“That I am inclined to agree with,” Lupin murmured. Then he spoke up “but I feel this case is no more decisive than the first.”  
Fantômas made a ‘tsk’ sound, “Come, monsieur, see sense. Nyctalope was on the roof with a gun in his hand. You saw him with your own eyes! How can you imagine that he was not responsible for firing it?”  
“Nothing more than a feeling. It will become clear once you stand on that balcony,” Lupin answered.

Silence fell upon the three until they were stood on that balcony. Lupin tried to see where someone could have shot from, but the angle would not come to him no matter where he positioned himself. “I need height,” he muttered to himself, taking off his jacket. He lay it down out of the way on the railing and then climbed up onto the stone. It was easy for him to make his way onto the roof.

“What are you doing?” Zenith exclaimed.

Lupin did not answer him, carefully walking at a crouch higher up the slates for the sake of balance. He soon found what he was looking for. “It was around here the shots were fired, perhaps higher, but by Jove, our attacker was a talented shot.”  
“But he missed,” Fantômas pointed out flatly.

“Well, yes, but they climbed up here in such great winds and rain, fired a shot at several hundred yards and missed by  _ inches _ .” Lupin began to shuffle his way back down. “So my point for Nyctalope’s innocence is this: I do not believe that he has this skill.”  
“But you don't know for certain?" Fantômas said.

Lupin jumped down, landing on his feet. “Well, no, but chance is irrelevant here. Two shots being so close in such conditions… I’m inclined to put that down to skill.”

“So what about this other man Nyctalope claimed to see?” Zenith said. “I confess I'm not convinced myself but then Nyctalope ran on the roof. He made himself seen that way, rather than hiding in his room. Perhaps an indication of the truth. What do you think of it?”  
“Pah, once more- nothing but an act,” Fantômas declared. He made a gesture of annoyance. “You’re wasting your time. I am sure he has something to do with this at the very least. I for one will not allow his façade to cast doubt on my judgement. I’m off to see if Robur’s chemist is any further forward.” Without another word he left.

“What’s got him so sour today?” Lupin remarked.  
“Frustration I imagine. He wants this crook caught just as much as I do. He seems rather fond of Robur.”

Lupin collected his jacket and slipped it on again to keep the breeze out. “I don't know about you, Monsieur, but this whole situation does not rest well with me. None of it. Either Nyctalope is guilty, or he is being framed, and it could equally be either option.”  
“Yes, it is most aggravating. These are such confident and open attempts - and yet no one has seen a thing. It’s embarrassing!”

“Confident indeed… Zenith, I've a favour to ask if you and if you truly want justice you'll listen.”  
Zenith was taken aback. “Speak it.”  
“I ask of you to trust me and believe in me, no matter what happens, no matter how circumstances seem.”

Zenith arched his brows. “An unusual request… What are you thinking?”

“It's becoming clear there are two sides to this, those that believe Saint-Clair innocence and those who do not. I fear things will escalate but it is hard to tell in which direction. All I ask is that you trust in me when I need it most, regardless. Think of it as something for me to fall back on.”  
Zenith looked at Lupin with suspicion and then confusion, but he nodded. “I'll do what I can.”  
“Merci, Monsieur. I only hope we can find a clue before anything else happens."

* * *

**(*A Few Minutes Later*)**

There were so many things that troubled Lupin as he walked down the corridor. He had two separate mysteries on his hands: finding out who, if anyone, was framing Nyctalope and secondly trying to discover who killed Nemo’s family. There was little he could do for Nemo at the moment as much as he hated to admit it. That puzzle would have to wait. For now, he had to find out who was responsible for trying to kill Robur- he had to look out for his own first.

Upon thinking of Nemo, Lupin remembered he needed to get them off the Albatross. He would have to move them one at a time and he expected quite a scene. Justified or not, Lupin wasn’t in the mood for them to be trying to run and fight. The island wasn't massive but all the same if one of them was to get away it would be very difficult to recapture them.

Lupin retrieved his soggy coat from his room. He paused, seeing Nemo’s kirpan on his drawers. It didn’t belong there, it belonged to Nemo. He wondered…. He picked it up and put it in his pocket and hurried outside into the uncanny weather once more. He turned his collar up to the cold and wet. At least the inside of his coat was only damp. The chilling rain was slapping him in the face but he decided to ignore it as best he could. Once on the Albatross, he used his hand to wipe the precipitation from his face and went to collect a coat for Ishmael to wear. Then he was ready to plod down to the first mate's cell.

Ishmael stood up at once after hearing his footsteps. Lupin opened the door and closed it behind him. “It’s time to move. Here, I’d put this on or else you’ll catch a chill,” Lupin explained, holding the coat out to him. Ishmael walked forward and took it, eyeing him with suspicion. He said nothing and he slipped it on, fastening it up.

Lupin was then able to handcuff Ishmael's hands behind his back with no trouble, much to his surprise. This Ishmael seemed so different from the one who had first came aboard the Albatross. The anger had burned out over the last week and now he was stuck with the sorrowful hopelessness of being brought back to such a horrid place. But this couldn't be Lupin's concern. He had to follow orders.

The thief led the weary first mate off the ship. Ishmael froze when he saw the Island looming in front of him. For a moment he couldn't swallow. His eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped slightly. He knew that this is where he would be taken but it seemed more real to him now. His chest seemed to tighten as he took in his surroundings. Lupin wondered what memories this had dredged to the surface. Feeling him tense under his hold was cause for concern.

“Come on, Ishmael. Let's get out of the foul weather, quickly now,” Lupin instructed. The first mate did not budge. He stood, staring at the building in front of him. He couldn't bring himself to take another willing step towards that building.  
“Ishmael, walk please,” Lupin said a little louder, pulling on the first mate’s arm. Ishmael stepped back, his face was blank but he remained tense, ready to act. Lupin looked at the first mate. He could see the fear and sadness in his eyes, and his set jaw. Forcing or ordering Ishmael to move would not work, he would resist and Lupin knew he wouldn't be able to hold him. Force would fail, and so cunning would have to prevail.    


“I know how much you hate this, but I have a deal for you,  _ mon ami _ . Do as I have asked you and I will put Nemo in a neighbouring cell to yours, so you can speak all the time. Is it a bargain? Come, don't make me have to fight to get you there."  
Gritting his teeth Ishmael began to walk. "Alright,” he murmured in defeat. He kept his head down, forcing himself not to look at the fortress but the desire to get out of the bad weather spurred him on. Getting inside the building seemed to physically hurt him. He did not want to be there. He did not want to look at the stone walls surrounding him, reminding him of memories long since passed. Yet he endured, Lupin suspected he was hoping to recall the route.

Lupin took him deeper into the fortress, passing dozens of disinterested faces until they reached a wide hallway with a row of cells at either side. He led him to one of the middle ones and nudged him inside, locking the door behind him. The cells had solid stone walls, but the doors were metal bars. Inside each room were a good bed, a small vanity table, and a desk with a chair. All were made of solid oak. Compared to some cells he had seen, Lupin felt these were comfortable little rooms.    
“Good man. Give me your hands and I’ll free you.” Ishmael obeyed, slipping his hands in between the gaps of the bars. The turn of a key and he was released.

“How long do you intend to keep us here?” Ishmael asked without turning to face him.  
“I won't be able to give you a date, you understand? But the moment Nemo finishes his work, you'll be on your way back home. That I can promise you. Would you be so good as hand me that coat for Nemo?”

Ishmael nodded and removed it. Then walked to the bed to sit down.

Another coat, and another movement. Lupin hoped his luck continued with Nemo. Opening the door, he found Nemo to be at his desk, looking through the work. “I expect you're here to escort me to my room?” he said.   
“Yes. As I told Ishmael, follow me with no resistance, then I can place you in a neighbouring cell.”

Nemo made a face of doubt. “From threatening death to promising reward. May I inquire as to why you have elected to take such a different stance? Do you hope to prompt my working rate?”   
Lupin smirked. There was no getting anything past Nemo it seemed. “Nothing has changed. But I see no harm in giving you someone to speak with unless of course, you disagree?”

“No. I am only intrigued.” Nemo rose from his desk. Lupin gave him the coat and after a moment they were ready to leave. Nemo tugged at the handcuffs, more out of curiosity, but they were secure. He walked with him without hesitation. Nemo body was tense- alert even. He kept his head high and wore his malicious reserve. He refused to show even the slightest sign of fear, he wanted to feel in control. Lupin could feel an air of determination surrounding him. The captain had no intention of cowering from his situation. 

Nemo was escorted into his new room and Lupin released him from the handcuffs as he had Ishmael.  
“I'll have someone bring your work down for you,” Lupin explained.   
Nemo removed his coat and gave it back to Lupin. Lupin paused and sighed. “I have one last deal for you, Nemo.” Nemo looked at him with curiosity.

Lupin went into his pocket and produced the kirpan. Nemo’s eyes widened. “I will give you this to keep on you, but I want your word of honour to not use it against anyone. Let me be clear, if you do, I will take it from you, destroy it, and move Ishmael away from you. I’m trusting you with a lot here, you understand? No attacks, no escape attempts, no foul play.”

Nemo looked at the weapon, then up to Lupin’s face. “You have my word of honour. It will remain in its sheath.”  
Lupin handed it to him. “Good, best behaviour now. Don’t make me regret it.”  
Nemo put the kirpan back on his side, “Thank you.”

After checking both barred doors and glancing around to see that everything was secure, he left.

For a moment there was no noise but Ishmael spoke up upon hearing the shutting and locking of another door. He assumed it was Lupin leaving the hallway.

“Captain, these cells. They’re not the same; I'm sure they're in a different place. They were in the east wing last time.”  
“Yes, Ishmael. They have been moved. This won't work to our advantage,” Nemo answered, sitting down on his new bed. He leant forward with nothing to do but wait.  
“Is there nothing we can do?” Ishmael wondered out loud, inspecting the doors, particularly the hinges.  
“You can look, but I am doubtful. Robur won't let any opportunities present themselves easily.”

“Indeed so,” an unfortunately familiar voice said.

Nemo jumped to his feet but did not try to approach the door. Straining his ears, he found the eerie rhythmic sound of boots pierced the silence. Instinct brought his hand to his kirpan, but he moved it away again. He’d given his word, but he didn’t expect it to be tested so quickly. Nemo looked Ishmael in the eye. He hoped to send a pleading gaze, begging him to remain calm when their enemy would come into their sights once again.

Robur walked to the doorways of their cells. He stood at a bit of a diagonal, primarily facing Nemo but Ishmael was still visible in the corner of his eye. As usual, Robur settled his hands behind his back.

“Robur,” Nemo acknowledged.  
“You have been working for eighteen full days now. I am unimpressed with the results of your work,” Robur pointed out, ignoring Nemo's cold acknowledgement.  
“I am doing the best I can,  _ Captain _ . You know firsthand that my work is reliable and if you want no mistakes then I advise you let me take my time. I would have thought you considered that basic intelligence,” Nemo argued calmly, folding his arms with a solid glare.

Nemo turned his head, hearing a door open followed by gentle footsteps. His full attention returned to the monster in front of him.   
“We do not have the luxury of time, Nemo. Get your head out of your distorted reality and realise I’m trying to save as many people’s lives as I can. This isn't about you and I. I assure you, if there were a better nautical engineer out there then he would be standing in your place,” Robur explained with a voice like rumbling thunder.

Nemo did not so much as flinch. He was steel. Ishmael was chomping at the bit to snap but he steadied himself. The wishes of the captain had always outweighed his own. Robur turned his attention to whoever else was in the corridor.

“What is it, lad?” he inquired in a far calmer tone.   
“Turner asked me to find you for him, sir. He said it was important,” the boy replied.   
The voice was male but young. Nemo was too far back in his room to see past the stone walls that made the sides of the cells. Ishmael could. He seemed to have been taken aback. He glanced to Nemo and down the corridor with a slight twitch of his head.

Nemo approached the door and looked down the hallway to see to whom Ishmael was wanting him to look at.

It was a boy, no older than thirteen. What struck Nemo most was his resemblance to Robur. A relative? Thin, although strong shoulders were developing the same broadness. His dirty blond hair, at a medium length, was almost covering his eyes.

He kept his soaked dark grey coat folded under his arm. Even that seemed to be a similar design to that of Robur's - a double-breasted coat with a stiff collar and almost a dozen silver buttons. Without it on, Nemo could see black trousers with a dirty white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The oil and grime on his clothes suggested he was gaining experience in engineering. With all eyes focusing on him, the boy looked uncomfortable. He stood his ground, looking to Robur for guidance.

Although the boy remained wordless he brought his hand up and scratched his neck. His hand wandered towards the ring on a necklace he wore. He seemed to realise what he was doing, letting go at once.

“Go and wait outside, Armand. I'll join you in a moment,” Robur instructed with a gentler tone.  
“Yes, sir.” Armand was on his way to the door when Nemo spoke again, which drew him to a curious halt.  
“Not about you and I? Do you mean to tell me that this whole vendetta has nothing to do with the past? Holding so many people as little more than slaves? With the innocents, you murdered for no reason other than spite?!” The captain’s voice was low and sharp as he held onto the bars of his cell door with an impressive grip.

“I know what you suspect me of- I expect that is why I got a bullet to the chest, yes? Well I told Lupin and I'm telling you; I am not the man responsible for such a diabolical act! Get your work done, Nemo, or I will move Ishmael well out of your way and you will not see him until you have finished. I am not a murderer. That doesn't mean I won't do what I have to if it means stopping a war-" Robur cut himself off as he saw the boy at the doorway. "I told you to wait outside.”

Armand quickly disappeared out the door.

Ishmael seemed to struggle to not reach his arm through the bars and try to throttle Robur again. Nemo hardened his gaze slightly as he looked at the first mate. He could not let Ishmael retaliate, regardless of what was said. Ishmael understood and walked to the back of his cell and began pacing.

Robur heaved a powerful breath. “I've done all I can to be nice about this, Nemo but my hospitality is running thin. Get the work done!” Robur warned before leaving, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Nemo looked to Ishmael with wide eyes as he returned to the front of his cell. Ishmael shook his head and paced, clenching and unclenching his hand.  
"The two bear a striking resemblance to one another," Nemo observed.  
“Father and son I'd say, or perhaps grandson or nephew? But they look related alright, Captain. They are too similar for it to be a coincidence. Besides, did you not see the necklace he wore? It was Robur's old ring on a chain- his wedding ring! I saw his ring was gone when he faced away from me. I remember he always wore it, even when he was working. It makes sense for him to have given it to his son… Do you suppose his wife has died?”

“It's very possible, but I never met her. I just pity the boy if he truly is Robur's son...”

Robur closed the door to find Armand waiting nearby. The boy was hesitant to look at him.   
Robur took a breath to rid him of his frustration. “I don’t want you going back in there, my lad. Those men are dangerous. Lupin also decided to give Nemo his kirpan back, a blade.”   
Armand looked up, somewhat relieved that he had not been scolded, but the worry was still clear on his face.

“What did he mean?” Armand asked. “I know you got him to build the Nautilus… but the rest-”   
“The rest were lies, Armand, I swear. Pay him no heed. Nemo’s words hold nothing but false accusations.”  
“But what-”  
“Armand, what I say is the truth and I don't want to hear any more on the matter,” Robur grumbled, closing the conversation.  
Armand looked down at his feet. “Yes, sir,” he said quietly.

Robur sighed and went over to the boy. “Understand this, Nemo is a madman. He lives in his own distorted reality where he will kill anyone he wishes. I don’t want you anywhere near him. He could hurt you.”  
“I understand.”

Robur waited but a moment before he smiled and ruffled Armand’s hair, “I’ve missed you, my boy. I’m sure you’ve been busy whilst I’ve been gone.”  
Armand nodded and his small smile turned into a beam. “I’ve been working on my project."  
“I can tell,” Robur chuckled, seeing his clothes.

He gestured for Armand to follow with a soft smile. “Come along then. Let’s see what Turner wanted from me.”

Armand nodded with a smile of his own, "Yes, father."


	27. Albatross Around the Neck

**Chapter 27 - Albatross Around the Neck  
** **_The_ ** **_Nautilus_ ** **, Indian Ocean: September 26th**

Skinner dressed and grease painted, slipped inside his room and closed the door behind him. The room wasn’t so different from the others, with clean walls bearing intricate patterns that helped to make the place seem so much more peaceful. There was a chest in the corner close to the canopy bed, both made of dark wood. He liked his room, it was warm and clean, but it was very different from the London he grew up in. Things had changed a lot since he last slept on British soil.

Lost in thought, he hoped to go undisturbed but he failed to notice that the sneck of the door hadn’t caught. It was open a little way and he was too distracted to pay attention. The days to wait until they arrived at the island were drawing to a close. Skinner wanted to be at his best, even if it would be that much more difficult for him.

What he had not told the League was that he had developed a paralysing fear- a fear of fire. He couldn't stand anything more than a candle and even then he was far from keen. He had to expect to come across fire during their upcoming rescue mission, but he could not allow his fear to stop them from saving Nemo and Ishmael.

Gingerly, Skinner took a box of matches out of his pocket and sat at his desk, where there was a little candle and a cup of water waiting. The thief had done this several times beforehand but he did not feel like he was improving at all. He took his gloves off and waited a few minutes for his courage to come back to him. Clenching his fist for a moment, he crushed the tremble that tried to emerge in his fingers.

He took a match out of the box. With a deep breath, he struck it, but it snapped and did not ignite. He grumbled under his breath and tried again, though the second didn’t work either. Skinner grunted in irritation, stopping for a moment. He tried a third with less force and after a few swipes, he had it.

He heard a snarl as the flame took to the wood. The lithe flame warped and whirled as it reduced into a dainty light. Skinner had to force himself not to throw the match away.

_ For Nemo... You're doing this for Nemo,  _ he reminded himself, which helped a little. It didn't stop his mouth getting dry and his chest tightening. He kept the match upright so it couldn’t burn up the wood and reach his fingers.

The salt white flame danced in front of his widening eyes, murmuring and wheezing it swayed due to Skinner’s hurried breathing pressing upon it. It devoured the pale wood, leaving a burnt, disfigured, limp trail behind it. That’s what fire did. It would destroy anything in its way: paper, wood, material… even flesh.

Skinner tilted the match to allow it to burn a little more as his mind skittered back to Mongolia. He could feel himself tensing in apprehension, he licked his lips as the incandescent and amorphous light ravaged the wood and pierced through the dark. The eerie glow had reached less than the halfway mark but that was the thief’s cue to put the match out. He blew hard, dismissing the burning as quickly as it had begun and put what was left into the cup. The sour smell of smoke filled his nostrils, making him swallow back a feeling of nausea. He shuddered.

With a deep breath, Skinner took another match and repeated the process. He watched as it delicately moved like a ballerina, although to him it was not so calm. Fire was not a welcome and serene element. It was ungovernable and desperate, frantic and merciless. Though his skin had healed, he was covered in scars, luckily for him, no one else could see them. They weren't reminded of his injuries every time they looked at him. He remembered how he had panicked when the fire pounced on him. The heat, the light, the inferno that almost killed him! How was he supposed to overcome that? Fire was unpredictable - how could he learn to trust it again?

“Skinner,” Mina suddenly enquired. The invisible thief jumped and as he did so the flame bit his finger. “Ow!” he barked, throwing the match in the cup. “Mina, don't sneak up on me like that!”  
“I’m sorry, but the door was ajar… What were you doing?” she asked.    
Skinner sighed and pocketed the matches, hoping the vampire had not noticed. “It’s nothing- did you need something?” he asked.

“No” she replied, tilting her head. “Why were you lighting matches?”  
“I was lighting a candle.”  
Mina sighed “Mr Skinner, you are a terrible excuse maker.”  
“Ha, that’s because I’m not trying.” He scratched at his head.

Mina stepped forwards again, a subtle hint for Skinner to start explaining.

“Mina, I’m not sure you'd understand. Besides, it’s daft - a joke.”  
Mina sat down on the end of Skinner’s half-made bed. “Let me decide if I understand and my opinion of it.”  
Skinner sighed and turned around in his chair. He shut the door, checking it was closed this time.  
He sat back down and took the matches out of his pocket again. He was able to find distraction in playing with the box in his hand, flipping it and spinning it. It was easier to focus on that rather than his unexpected company.

“It's just what happened in Mongolia, I've. I don't...  _ like _ fire- I can't stand the stuff.” Skinner couldn't help but smirk at how ridiculous he felt he sounded. He was waiting for her to start to laugh. He felt so embarrassed at it all. “I was trying to get myself used to fire somewhat- get past the fear. I don't want to mess the rescue up but I didn't want anyone to know about this. I guess neither one of those has gone to plan." He threw his hands in the air. "See, told you it was daft.”  
“No, Rodney. It isn't.”

Skinner looked up from the matchbox to see the cool expression of Mina Harker. She sat and patiently listened as she made sense of what the thief was telling her. Now it was her turn to talk.  
“I know what it's like to be followed around by a fear. Present or not, it is always controlling you, in the back of your mind. I know how difficult it is, even if our situations are so very different.”   
  
“Dracula?” Skinner found himself mumbling before he could stop himself. He expected he would regret opening his mouth and reminding her of such, but she seemed unaffected. She nodded and continued, “I understand why you’re so keen to rid yourself of this fear before we get to the island. But we will be working together to stop the Albatross and although I cannot guarantee that there will not be a fire, I promise I will be in calling distance if you need me. I will not let any harm come to you or anyone else. You won't affect the plan so do not burden yourself with that worry."

Skinner shook his head to himself. "I can't depend on being able to come running to you like a little kid if something goes wrong."

An expression of defeat fell upon her face for a moment. "No... I suppose there is a chance you won't be able to.” She sat up straighter. “You defied all odds surviving what happened to you that day. We should have realised that it would not just leave physical wounds. Yet I know you can learn to overcome your fear and if I can help you in any way, then please tell me how to.”

“Thank you, Mina,” Skinner replied awkwardly, but he meant what he said. He cleared his throat, deciding now was the time to change the direction of the conversation. “To be honest I don't understand our plan all that much. What are we meant to do about Robur?”  
“We leave him.”  
“And why are we doing that exactly?” Skinner asked.  
“Because it is not our right to decide what happens to him. Nemo and Ishmael are the only ones who can decide his fate, just as Robur chose the fate of their families.”

Skinner nodded “Well, I can't argue with that. I just can't believe that all that happened to Nemo and Ishmael. I don’t mean to cause trouble, but Sawyer already knew most of it."  
“Yes, I see that now as well. He’d spoken to Ishmael about it, but I understand why did not say.”

“I was mad at him for it, I realised he knew before Pavan told everyone. I’m just glad nothing was said that I can’t take back.”  
Mina understood. “He was trying to protect Nemo, that’s all.”  
Skinner nodded, “I understand that now. Sometimes I just feel like no one trusts me. It’s frustrating, what’s a man got to do, huh?”   
“We do trust you, Rodney. That I can promise you. You’re a good man, and we all know it.”

Skinner gave an awkward smile but stopped a moment. "You know, you seemed a little angrier than I expected when you heard about what Robur had done come to think of it. I mean, Quatermain was understandable, he had a son, but you… Is there something I’m missing?” he asked with curiosity in his voice.  
Mina cleared her throat. “Well, as a mother, the truth about Nemo affected me that little bit more.”

Skinner raised his eyebrows. "Didn't know you had any kids.”  
“A son, Quincey. He lives in America with some close friends. After I was... bitten, and his father died. I knew I couldn't look after him. It was too unsafe for him. I can imagine the pain Nemo has been put through... At times I feel like I have lost my own child.”

A saddened smile fell into Mina's lips. “Quincey has no doubt forgotten all about me now. Often I wonder if I did the right thing or if I simply… abandoned him.”  
“You had the best intentions in mind, Mina. You know that,” Skinner insisted.  
“Yes, but thinking of Nemo and Ishmael I can’t help but think of how much I... miss him- how precious he is. As he gets older he will seek answers and he is already twenty two. If I tell him the truth he might feel inclined to return to me and that is not fair on the ones who have raised him, or him. I do not think I should tell him who I am, but that means staying away from him forever… I’m not sure if I can bring myself to do that.”

“Then don't. Why don't you write to them? See what your friends think? If they're your friends I can't see why there should be a problem with it. Then you could write to Quincey and talk to him. Don’t guess what they want, ask them.”  
Mina was quiet for a moment but nodded and stood up to leave. “Yes, yes perhaps I will…" She smiled softly, an idea springing to mind. "If I write to them, will you let me help you with your fear?”

Skinner smirked and looked down at the matchbox in his hand. “You know what, Mina? I just might.” He tossed her the box of matches which she caught with ease.

“You think for being so cooperative and helpful I deserve a kiss?” Skinner teased as Mina took her leave.  
“No,” was Mina’s blunt reply. Skinner couldn’t help it and he laughed heartily.

This was the way he liked things to be and he hoped that things could soon go back to normal - as normal as things could get for them anyway.


	28. Ignition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that this chapter does contain Armand, a minor in a stressful/dangerous/whump situation if that's something you'd like to avoid.

**Chapter 28 - Ignition  
** **Island X: September 28th**

Tensions on his island were rising and unsteady. Robur could feel it hanging in the air like a thick corroded shroud. Rifts were growing amongst the Mysterious Men and he knew it was only a matter of time before they found the straw that would break the camel’s back. He did not dare to relax. Even with a task as simple as sleeping, he felt exposed, unsafe. How much longer was this to go on for?

Robur was about to get changed for bed, lock his door and put himself at risk once more when there was a knock at the door. With a patient sigh, he refastened the one button he had loosened and called for the person outside to come in.

“Fantômas,” he said in surprise as the door opened. “What can I do for you?"  
“I need to speak with you for a moment, that's if I'm not disturbing you of course,” Fantômas explained.  
“Not at all, pull up a chair for yourself.”  
“If it's all the same to you I'd rather stand. I'll be brief about what I have to say,” he said as he closed the door behind him.  
“Then come, speak,” Robur said, becoming more curious. He leaned back against his desk, almost sitting on it, holding onto the edge of the table.

“It may be nothing, but I am concerned about Monsieur Lupin. For one his friendship with Nemo seems to be strengthening... My only concern is that it could be used against us if it grows too much. I can’t begin to imagine what ideas might be filling up in his head and the fact he return his knife to him is disconcerting.”  
Robur nodded to himself. He should have expected something like this, for doubts and concerns to creep up amongst their group. These men were no fools and little could escape their notice. But for Fantômas of all people to bring the matter to his attention- it had to be serious.

Robur said “I understand the concern, but I am confident Lupin will not allow himself to be manipulated. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on the matter.”  
“Forgive me if I speak out of turn but I am not so sure. Lupin is...” Fantômas made a rolling gesture with his hand as he tried to find his words. Then he clenched his fist, letting it drop back down “he is not himself- not as sharp as I would expect to find him in such circumstances.”

Robur pulled a face of doubt. “Are you referring to the poisoning and the shooting?”  
Fantômas nodded “It is quite straightforward. I’ve looked everywhere for any other climbing spots, and they are all some distance away. No one could have run all the way across the roof safely in that weather and I doubt they would not have been seen. They had to use that balcony. Robur, I am sure Saint-Clair fired those shots.”

Fantômas cleared his throat, stopping himself as he grew frustrated. He struggled against pacing as he continued in an almost pained voice “Lupin ignores the facts of these latest attempts on your life, twisting them to prove Saint-Clair’s supposed innocence! Like yourself, I suspect the boy. I fear Lupin cares for him too much- but whether he has been disillusioned or simply does not want to accept the truth I cannot say.”

Robur shrugged, unable to answer the questions that burned in Fantômas’ mind. “We've had our disagreements but I cannot explain this. I don't know what is going through his head at the moment but I can understand why you are starting to doubt in him...”  
“I'm sure it's nothing,”  Fantômas said quickly.  “I feel I can trust in Lupin’s ability- for the most part. I only wanted to be certain that you were aware. I would not believe everything he says wholeheartedly.”  
“I understand. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.” Robur could not help but feel disheartened. The last thing he needed was for his second in command, for Arsène Lupin, to be losing his touch at a time like this.

Fantômas looked to clock, noting the time and the effect his words had on his leader.  “I’ll take my leave, the hour is late,”  Fantômas made for the door.  
“Come and see me tomorrow morning. We can discuss things further then. I’m interested to know what your investigating has uncovered,” Robur explained, opening the door for him to leave as the conversation drew to a close.

As Robur opened the door, a weak wall of smoke rushed up to meet him, thickening at a rapid pace. The smell slithered up into his nose, making him clear his throat. It stung his eyes.  
“This wasn't here a moment ago," Fantômas said with alarm. "Is this... normal?”  
“No.” Robur's eyes followed the smoke to its source as if it were a stream. His blood turned to ice in his veins.

“Armand,” he breathed as if frozen for a split second. With sudden a burst of energy, he ran down the hall to the boy's room. He called out to him again, louder. He tried to open the door, surprising himself as he seized the warm metal in his hand. “Fantômas wake the men up in these rooms, hurry now!”   
Fantômas did as he was asked, pounding on the doors, shouting until everyone was up, ordering for them to deal with the emergency.

Robur shook at the door, pushing hard, trying to see if it had caught on something. It would not move. It was locked. He could not withhold the feeling of dread that slammed into his chest. Armand never locked his door. “Armand! Armand, get up!” Robur bellowed. 

Even through the noise Fantômas and the waking men made, Robur could hear Armand hitting the door. He called for him, gasping and coughing as his small body strained to get the air it needed. Relieved though he was to hear movement, the sense of urgency multiplied tenfold. Robur needed to get him out.

“Armand, can you hear me?” he called again.  
“Da?! Da, help- it's getting worse! I can’t get out the window. I’m stuck!”  
“Keep your head, my lad. Where’s your key?”  
“It's not. It's not here,” Armand choked. There was a great crack followed by a shatter. Armand shouted in alarm. The window must have smashed with the heat. Robur tensed his jaw. The smoke was overwhelming both of them.  
“Hold on, son, keep as low as you can.”

Robur raced down the hall and back to his room. He pulled open one of the drawers of his desk, where the spare key to Armand’s room was hidden. Only now it was gone. "No," he hissed. “No, why isn’t it here?” He checked the floor with no success. With a snarl of anger, he hurried back to Armand’s door. He was running out of options. He was running out of time.

“Armand?!” he shouted, hoping for a reply. There was nothing but crackling wood. Robur took to trying to break down the door, using his sheer strength, but it was not enough. He shouted and grunted as he tried to get the door to open, ramming it with his shoulder. But these doors were strong and with every painful charge, the realisation grew that he could not break it.

Fantômas emerged from one of the rooms, alarmed at Robur's attempts. "Have you not got a key?" he exclaimed as he approached.  
"They're gone, both of them!" Robur tried the door again. "Armand, can you hear me? Answer me, son!"  
There was no reply. Not even a cough. Robur rammed himself into the door with growing ferocity.  
“Step aside,” Fantômas ordered “it's impossible to break these doors. I should be able to pick it.”

“Then be quick!” Robur barked.  
Fantômas ran down the hallway and into his room, returning triumphant. Dropping down to the smoking keyhole, he began to work as fast as his nimble fingers would allow. It took only a few seconds but to Robur, it felt like an age. He couldn't hear Armand. He was running out of time.  
“Hurry, Monsieur,” Robur insisted.

As soon as it unlocked, Fantômas pushed the door open about a foot. Black smoke, hot and thick, belched out at him, filling the hall, yanking any good and clean air from them. Both men coughed and wheezed and their eyes watered.

Being the smaller of the two, Fantômas tried to squeeze into the room. As soon as he got his chest through the gap, the smoke seized him, blinding him, making him desperate for air. But he had to ignore his own needs. Fantômas held his breath and looked for the boy. The bedroom was in flames, starting on the left-hand side where the smashed window was. Armand’s bed was on the right, close to the door.

Armand was lying behind the door and made it hard to open it any wider. He made no movement and his eyes were closed. Fantômas could see he had covered himself in his blanket, keeping his airways covered- a desperate bid to prolong his survival. There were pops and bangs as the fire gouged into the wooden furniture. The flames were vicious and growing nearer to the unconscious boy.

Despite its distance from him, Fantômas felt his skin burning from the heat of the flames. He quickly forced the rest of his body past the door and crouched down beside Armand. He wasn't moving. Fantômas wrapped the blanket around Armand further and lifted him onto his shoulder with a grunt.

Robur held the door open for him as he backed away from the inferno. He slammed it shut as soon as he slipped through, blocking some of the smoke.  
Fantômas coughed violently “Take him to Champeau, I'll stay here and ensure this fire is extinguished.”  
“I'm in your debt. Thank you.”  
Fantômas looked up at Robur’s face, and his expression was grim but as genuine as his wheezing words. He smiled from under his garb. With a nod, he said, “Go, your boy isn't in the clear yet.”

Robur took Armand from him and hurried away from the smoky halls. He stopped only once he found the air to be clearer. As he lay Armand on the floor dread seized him by the gut. What condition would he find him in? Throwing the blanket from his body, he found him unmarked at first sight. Robur checked for a pulse. He found nothing.

"Armand?" he managed. His son lay still in front of him, red-skinned, covered in soot and dirt, unmoving. His bright angelic face looked tarnished and worn.

"Please... please, wake up for me." Robur waited, his body tense, moving the position of his hand. “Please,” he managed in a voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't lose him. He had to be alive. There was no way he was willing to let his son slip away from him. Robur yanked open Armand’s pyjama shirt, letting buttons fly, pondering on chest compressions. He put an ear to his chest, straining to listen for a heartbeat. There was rhythm.

That was when he saw it: movement in his son’s throat! As if to prove it, his son chose then to swallow and began coughing until he woke up.

Robur heaved an almighty sigh of relief. “My boy,” he breathed. He sat Armand up as he caught his breath. Robur kept him close, keeping a hand on the back of his head. Armand collapsed into Robur’s chest, still gasping for clean air.  
“It’s alright, my lad. You’re safe now.”  
Armand gripped onto Robur’s shirt as he tried to clear out his lungs. Robur rubbed his back to help him.

“I’ve got you. Are you hurt?”  
“I’m fine,” his son croaked.  
“You’re sure?” he asked, leaning back so he could see him. He placed his hand on the top of Armand’s forehead, stroking his dirtied golden-brown hair. He was hot to the touch. The boy's shaking did not reassure him, but he hoped he was only startled.  
“I’m fine, da, honestly... I just.”

Robur sighed softly and looked at his son. Armand looked back, trembling, eyes red and growing damp. In an instant, Armand wrapped his arms around Robur's neck and hugged him tightly. Robur held him back, reassuring them both he was here.  
"Thank you, da. For a moment, I. I..." Armand’s voice quavered.  
“Hush, Armand, none of that. You're safe now.” Robur carefully let go of his son, moving Armand’s hair from his face again and smiled. How much it meant for him to see life in his eyes! Had Fantômas not came to see him when he did…

Robur did not want to think of what could have been. “Come, I need to get you to a doctor. We'll get you some water and fresh air.”  
Exhaling carefully, Armand nodded. Robur helped his son to stand and made sure to support him as much as possible as they walked to find someone who could help. Robur knew it would be a sleepless night for himself but he did not care. Robur would never sleep again if it ensured Armand’s safety.

Nothing in that room could have caused a fire. There were no candles, no exposed wires and the heating for the room was harmless- nothing more than hot water in the pipes. Nothing could have led to the keys being missing, other than someone's deliberate and malicious plans of searching for and removing them. Tonight Robur would stay by his son's side. Nothing would stop him from protecting that boy- his only child!

But tomorrow was a different matter. He would do everything in his power to find who was responsible, and he would break them.    
  



	29. A Matter of Justice

**Chapter 29 - A Matter of Justice  
** **Island X: September 29th**

It was early the next morning when Robur saw Fantômas again. Robur was in a seat close to his son's bed but the door to the room was ajar. Fantômas seemed somewhat uncomfortable, keeping his head down as he entered Armand’s temporary room. It was blander than most of the others and Fantômas felt it was quite prison-like. It was a room stripped bare and not expected to be used.

Robur greeted him with a nod, standing up.  
“Captain, I need to speak with you,” he replied in a grim tone.  
“What is it? Another attempt?”  
“No, no. It is... regarding last night,” Fantômas explained. His gaze fell upon the boy. Robur's eyes followed his. Armand looked at ease, sleeping undisturbed, as if unaware of what had happened to him last night.

Fantômas shook his head in disbelief “Am I right to assume he’s unharmed?”

Robur nodded again, gesturing for him to stand outside with him. "A few blisters on his hands and a bad chest, but nothing that should have lasting effects,” Robur said, closing the door most of the way behind him. "Now, what's troubling you?"  
“Last night’s fire, as we already suspected, was deliberate. An accelerant was used to make the flames take hold as rapidly as they did - there was a tin burned out near the curtain.” Robur tensed his jaw but otherwise said nothing.

Without a word, Fantômas then produced from his pocket a blue long-sleeved shirt, belonging to Nyctalope. It was blue and tighter fitting. Only Nyctalope wore those kinds of shirts when he was expecting to exercise.

“Last night when my men and I were extinguishing the fire, Saint-Clair did not appear. I haven't seen him all morning in fact,” Fantômas began, before handing the shirt to Robur. “Smell it." Robur did not have to lean in very far to smell it. It was rancid, humming with the scent of smoke, but there was another smell among it. It smelled like a mixture of shoe polish and wax.

"Paraffin,” he acknowledged. His grip tightened on the material. “The stimulant for the fire."   
"Exactly. You can even see a few splash stains on it.”  
“Yet you say he did not go near the fire at any stage of the night?” Robur murmured.   
Fantômas nodded. "You see my concerns?" Robur could not read his face due to his black mask, but the voice carried all the worry he needed to hear.

Robur took a single breath, as deep and slow as he could make it and even that did not seem like enough. His eyes set aflame, as though they too were ignited with the aid of paraffin. “How did you come by this?” he asked, the quietness in his voice was frightful.  
“I went down to the laundry to check all yesterday's clothes for such a smell. It was a simple matter of searching from there. I'd also wager on him having the missing keys to the door hidden somewhere- unless he has already disposed of them.”

“I'll kill him,” he snarled.  
“No, you will not,” Fantômas warned. “You might have little to lose but I am trying to earn my amnesty. Harming Nyctalope in any way will forfeit our freedom for all of us.”  
Robur struggled to keep his voice down. “Then what do you suppose I do with the man who tried to kill my son?”  
“Take him back to France. They will deal with him. You might even get your wish if he’s charged with treason.”

The sound of a groan from the bedroom drew their attention. Robur opened the door wider to check on Armand. He was still asleep but had turned over.  
“Regardless, this spree must be put to an end. Nyctalope pays for his crimes today.”  
Fantômas nodded. "See to your boy. I'll gather a few men and return." With a nod of agreement, he went back inside his son’s room.

Robur became a silent storm, the hawk had found his prey and now all he had to do was dive for it and take his revenge. He looked down to his son. His only child lying in front of him, recovering from a savage attempt to take his life. Robur could not help but gently stroke his dirty blond hair. Things made sense now. Nyctalope had given up trying to kill him and had instead made Armand his new target. Robur had made his decision; he knew what to do.

* * *

**(*A Little While Later*)**

Nyctalope jolted awake when he heard someone pounding at the door. He sat up in bed. He could hardly open his eyes as light flooded into his vision. Another loud knock and Nyctalope decided to call out “What is it?”  
“It's Fantômas, Lupin wants to speak to you outside in the courtyard. He said it was important.”

Nyctalope sighed and sluggishly got up. He then dressed. “It would have been easier if he came to me,” he yawned. Perhaps something had come up that could prove his innocence. That thought prompted him to get ready faster.

Upon arriving outside, he found Lupin to be speaking outside with Robur. He folded his arms in a bid to keep the cold breeze from reaching his skin. Over a dozen of Fantômas’s men were present as was Fantômas himself. Though he felt ill at ease, he went to see Lupin. He felt quite reassured to see that Jean and Rene were not far from the gathering. They were sat talking, laughing and enjoying the day whilst the rain was gone but the wind remained. Nyctalope wished he could go and join them instead of having to worry about what Lupin had to say

“Lupin, you wanted to see me?” Nyctalope spoke up, ignoring Robur's presence for the time being.  
“I did?” Lupin asked, somewhat perplexed.   
“It was I who wanted to see you, Saint-Clair,” Robur spoke up. Nyctalope could see how rigid he stood, how deep, strong and somewhat jittery his breathing was. 

“Why? Has something happened?” Nyctalope asked, making sure to soften the scowl that almost made itself known.   
Robur took from the inside pocket of his jacket a blue shirt- one of his. “There was a fire last night in Armand’s room."

“My God! Is. Is he alright?" he exclaimed.  
"Remarkably yes. As you seem to have been unaware of this, I assume you're claiming you were not there?”  
"No, I was in bed by ten.”  
“How do you know the fire was after ten?” Robur asked sharply, a grin of triumph pulling at his lips.  
Nyctalope’s mouth opened and then closed again. Then his words came to him “I don't - I assumed- I was saying where I was.”

“Suppose I take that for the truth. The other thing that I cannot fathom is why your shirt reeks of smoke!” Robur hissed, holding up the shirt to Nyctalope’s face in a clenched fist. Nyctalope could not help but notice how white his knuckles became with the grip.

He looked away from the shirt and back to Robur. “I. I don't understand. Are you accusing me of this?” Insulted. Stung. Nyctalope couldn't believe what he was hearing. He forced himself to calm, remembering what Lupin had told him. He had to keep his head and wait for Lupin to help him. But as he looked over to him, he found Lupin was equally as baffled. Lupin said nothing. That concerned the young hero more than anything.

“Playing innocent won't work this time. There have been two attempts on my own life. That was almost tolerable but I will not stand for your threats against my son. Enough is enough!"  
Robur turned to look at Fantômas and ground out, "Take him to the cells.”

Lupin stared at Robur in a combination of disgust and alarm. He stepped forward and was about to speak but Robur's hand shot up to eye level, silencing Lupin without so much as looking at him. The order had been given. Robur had no intention of letting his second in command intervene. Lupin knew that and so could only observe in horror.

“I will give you one chance to come without the need for force,” Fantômas warned Nyctalope.  
"I wouldn't harm so much as a hair on that boy’s head and you know it. I'm not responsible for any of this! You're making a mistake-”  
His words fell upon deaf ears. A gesture from Fantômas and Nyctalope found himself surrounded by three of Fantômas’s men, all with cold unmoving faces. Nyctalope cast his eyes back and forth trying to assess the danger that threatened him.

"Robur, please. Wait a moment and listen to me-"

One of the men kicked the back of his leg hard, taking him by surprise. With a hiss of pain, his knee thudded to the floor. He had to use his hands to stop himself falling on his face. Within an instant, the men seized him by the wrists, yanking his arms behind his back. Nyctalope struggled hopelessly against their strength. They pushed him down to the ground and a firm grip locked him into place.

"Robur-" Lupin tried to speak but by then the ropes were wrapped tight around Nyctalope's wrists. Nyctalope winced and continued to struggle against his restraints with increasing ferocity. He shouted out in anger. Rene and Jean noticed the commotion. They too yelled in protest and hurried over to help their friend.

“Let go of him, you'll disturb his wound!” Jean demanded as he and Rene dragged Fantômas's men off. They were soon taken by more men and pulled away, kicking and snarling. Now the number of men made sense. They’d expected a fight.  
“Don’t struggle. That will only make things worse,” Lupin said quickly.  
“Let go- I haven’t done anything!” Nyctalope snapped, ignoring Lupin all together.

“Enough!" Robur shouted. "Take those two down to the cells also.”  
“No!” Nyctalope beseeched. "Will you just listen-"  
“I want Nyctalope in a separate cell. Find Champeau and lock him in his room- I don’t want them all together either,” the captain continued. He stood firm, like a mountain. His hands were behind his back, clutching onto the shirt, watching with sharp eyes as the others' hands were bound.  
Lupin could not hold his silence. He spoke quietly over Robur's shoulder. “You know what will happen if you do this. Slow down a moment, how do you know you're not rushing to conclusions?”

Robur turned to face him, no signs of fear or regret showed in his frame. Only determination. “It's better than dragging my feet and disregarding the truth. Lupin, keep out of this or you will be joining them!”  
Lupin was at a loss. What could he do with such a threat looming over him? And it was a threat he was quite sure he'd act upon. The thief stepped away from Robur and pursed his lips. Things were growing out of hand; out of Lupin’s control. He turned his head away.

Nyctalope and his companions were marched back towards the fortress. Fantômas's men struggled to keep a firm hold of their new prisoners as each one fought for their freedom. The images of a dark cell already taunted Nyctalope. An idea sprung to mind. With an almighty gust of brute strength, he ran forward as if he were being tackled in rugby. The grip of two of the men lessened as he pulled away from them.

Fantômas hurried forward and struck the lad on the back of the head with a single swing. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.  
Chief!” Rene exclaimed as their leader succumbed to an immediate sleep. He was dragged along with little care. Rene and Jean did their best to fight but it was no good. The men carried them off to the cells without another word from Robur.

Lupin looked at Robur with wild eyes. He knew not challenge Robur’s power too much in front of others but now they were gone he felt no such restraint. “I expect you to have some valid evidence and a very good reason for this.”  
“Because he's guilty. I need to other reason or justification,” Robur answered, his voice harsh like red hot steel cooling in water.

"You'll have the lad scared half to death-"  
"And what about Armand?" Robur snapped. "How do you think he felt when we woke up locked in a burning room?! I came too close to losing him last night, Lupin, and I am not giving Saint-Clair another chance to kill him!"  
Lupin raised his voice slightly to meet Robur's tone. "Then there were other ways to go about this. Why didn't you tell me this was what you had planned? I didn't even know about a fire!"  
The captain chose not to answer. He walked away, slapping the blue shirt hard onto Lupin's chest as he passed him.

Lupin looked down at the shirt and, taking it in both hands, smelled it. True enough, it reeked of smoke, so much he let out a single cough. "By Jove..." he murmured.

Fantômas came up beside him, rubbing his hand where he had been forced to lash out. “Some things are better left as they are. Let them get on with this and don't concern yourself with it any more. There's nothing you can do about it now. Lèon Saint-Clair is guilty. When this is all over Robur will take him back to France for it. I've managed to sway Robur from doing worse, don’t tempt him.”

Lupin did not reply. He stood looking at the spot in which everything had taken such a vicious turn moments ago. He let the wind cool his agitation. Fantômas sighed and left the thief alone, patting his arm as he left.

“This isn't right. I can't accept it…” he murmured.


	30. Descent

**Chapter 30 - Descent  
** **Island X: September 29th**

Nemo’s quiet morning was shattered by the sound of shouting and stomping. And although he was awake at such an early time, Ishmael was still resting. So the racket that suddenly jerked him awake sent a pang of annoyance into the captain's chest. He stood up to investigate.

“Captain?” Ishmael inquired as he sat up and rubbed what little sleep he had out of his eyes. “What's happening?” Nemo raised a hand a little as a steadying gesture. He felt there was no need to prepare for conflict. Instead, they watched as three men were dragged towards the cells, one of which, Nyctalope, was hanging limp and barely unresponsive. Nemo and Ishmael exchanged glances. Although they both recognised the three, Nemo only knew the blonde and red-haired men by their first names.

Those carrying Nyctalope dropped him on the cold floor of the cell on the left of Ishmael. They untied his hands, leaving him where he'd fallen. The other two were forced into a cell on the right of Nemo and the door slammed shut behind them. As the cells' layout was like that of brickwork, Nemo could see Ishmael and Nyctalope, and Ishmael could see Nemo and the other two men. But the friends could not see each other.

The shouting and rattling of bars continued for a few minutes after the men had left. Both demanding to be released, insisting on an explanation. The red-haired lad, Jean was the first to give up, but Rene soon followed.  
“Brilliant. Just brilliant,” Jean spat. Nemo heard a clunk which he assumed was him letting his head fall against the bars of the door. 

Nemo’s attention skipped across to Nyctalope lying still on the floor. A low feeble groan seemed to come from him. “He’s waking,” Nemo said.  
“Chief?” Jean called, “Leo, wake up.”  
Nyctalope tried to get up on his elbows “Jean? What- agh.” His hand shot to the back of his neck.  
“Hold still a while. You took a nasty hit.” Nemo could hear the concern in his voice.

“Why are you here?” Nemo asked.  
Jean sounded stung “They’ve turned on us.”  
“Turned?” Nemo exclaimed. “Why?”

Nyctalope dragged himself into a sitting position, leaning against the side wall close to the door. “They think I've been trying to kill Robur. A fire last night in… one of the bedrooms. It has him certain.” He cleared his throat, seemingly hoping Nemo hadn't caught onto the fact that he withheld information.

"So Robur has had you put here?” Ishmael guessed.

Nyctalope scoffed, letting his head fall against the wall. His hand wandered up to his chest, holding it in pain but his voice remained strong "Yes, Robur. He's going to get someone, or himself, killed if he drops his guard. It's not me!"

Nemo opened his mouth to speak, to ask if he was hurt, but heavy footsteps caught his attention. Someone ran into the room, still panting for air.

“Robert,” Rene exclaimed. “What are you doing here? They’re looking for you!”  
“I heard,” Robert Champeau answered, coming into Nemo’s line of sight. “I think I made it here without any of them noticing. I had to talk to you. What’s going on?”

Nemo’s concern for Nyctalope began to grow when his hand moved away from his chest, showing red. He turned slightly, trying to hide it from Champeau- the gun wound he had received at Belgium. Champeau was yet to look over to Nyctalope and see. Nemo could not allow him to hide such an injury.

Rene let out an exasperated sigh. “They plan to lock you in your room. This isn’t fair!”  
“Don’t worry about me, I-” Champeau paused as Nemo cleared his throat. Nemo inclined his head towards Nyctalope and it was enough for Champeau to turn around. His shoulders slumped.

“Chief, are. are you alright?” he asked.  
“Your wound opened when you struggled, didn’t it?” Jean guessed quietly.  
“It’s nothing,” Nyctalope tried to insist, sending Nemo an irritated look.  
“You’re bleeding, Monsieur, and these rooms get cold. I suggest you do not try to hide your injuries,” Nemo advised.

Champeau crouched down at the door of his friend. “Come here, let me check. I’m not having you take ill when I can’t get to you.”

With a tired sigh, Nyctalope dragged himself closer to the door. As the pain increased, he had to hold tight to one of the metal bars. Robert pulled his reddened shirt down, eyeing up a small patch of scarlet bandage.  
“It’s only small,” Nyctalope tried to insist, although a hiss stopped him from saying any more.

“No, it’s not. I can’t work through these stupid bars,” Champeau grumbled loudly. “There has to be key somewhere around here! I need my things-”

It made no difference. More footsteps, this time it was Zenith, cane at hand and two men by his side. The two men came closer, ready to seize him.  
“Wait, wait! Please,” Champeau exclaimed, putting both hands in the air. Zenith gave the order for the men to halt. “I know why you’re here but you must wait. Nyctalope’s wound has reopened.”  
“Others can treat it,” Zenith said, but he did not give the order or the men to advance.  
“No, they can’t. You know his heart has artificial components and as a nurse, I have a duty. I’m not having someone else intervening with that. You were there, Zenith, you saw how bad this wound is.”

“Then what would you propose I do?” Zenith asked.  
“Lock me in with him with my things until I sort this. Please, after it is done I swear to you I will come quietly. Please, you and Robur owe me that much. I helped save your life and Armand's when Robur came to me for help.”  
Nemo was impressed with Champeau’s reasoning. There was little Zenith could say in retaliation without being unreasonable. 

Zenith gave the order for the men to open the door, and despite these young men having nothing to do with him, Nemo could not help but feel relieved. Robur may have lost his humanity, but knowing others on this island still held their consciences was the only reassurance he could have hoped to have.

* * *

**(*Later*)**

After a few hours, sure that things had cooled down, Lupin went down to the cells. Nemo was working and Ishmael looked to be asleep. Rene and Jean were sitting in sombre silence. Rene half-heartedly amused himself by flipping a coin into the air and catching it.

Broth, bread and water had been given to the five of them. Ishmael and Nemo were the only ones with enough sense to eat it, though it seemed Jean and Rene had at least tried. Nyctalope had not so much as looked at his. He’d pushed it outside of his cell.

And it was Nyctalope that concerned Lupin. He looked pale and was struggling not to pace at the back of his stone room. He could see that he was beginning to look frustrated, shaking his head, fidgeting, running his hands through his hair. This wasn't fair and Lupin knew it, but there wasn't a thing he could do to help.  
“Lupin, please, you have to get me out of here. I'm not responsible for this!” Nyctalope begged with a voice barely above a whisper, coming up to the barred door. He held onto the bars with enough strength to make his knuckles turn white.  
“You know if I could, I would.”

Nyctalope pursed his lips together. "You are second in command of the Mysterious Men- You're Arsène Lupin! I know you can speak to Robur and make him see sense-"  
"The only solid evidence we have is against you,” Lupin answered, moving closer to his cell, but he looked away. "I don't know how long I can go on defending you, believing you."

“What?" Nyctalope's shoulders slumped and his eyes grew wide. The betrayal shifted to anger. He slammed the side of his fist against the metal bars "None of you are listening! Someone is trying to set me up and they’re still out there! Someone is going to wind up dead! Why won't any of you trust me anymore?"  
Lupin looked over to Ishmael who startled awake with the noise. He turned over in his bed, trying hard to rest. Nemo looked over his shoulder from his work with concern but he held his silence. This wasn’t working out to be fair on anyone.

"Easy, Chief, your wound," Rene Coqui tried to remind him.  
"That doesn't matter. Why would Champeau save the people who I was supposedly trying to kill? Why would I help Zenith? You can’t just ignore the facts that don’t fit! Have you actually looked into any of this yourself?”  
“You need to calm down and quieten down,” Lupin warned.

“He has every right to be angry," Jean growled, readjusting how he sat against the wall. His eyes were closed but he did not look tired.  
“Of course he does, but need I remind you that you three aren’t the only ones down here? Captain Nemo is working and Ishmael is trying to sleep. Their situation is far worse than yours so please be respectful.”

Jean got to his feet and came to his door “You said for us to keep our heads down. You said you’d do whatever you could to clear our names, that you’d answer for everything. And you’ve done nothing-”  
"I’ve done what I can.”  
“Monsieur Lupin,” Coqui broke in, “What exactly has been found so far?”  
Lupin moved to be in his line of sight. At least one of them remained polite and more importantly, trusted him. He glanced over to Nemo. Did he want him to hear all of this? How the Mysterious Men were falling apart?

“There was no definite evidence for the poisoning. As for the shooting, all there is that truly points to your innocence was your skill in shooting, or apparent lack of it rather. Rifles aren't your weapon of choice last I checked.”  
“I haven't fired one in my life,” Nyctalope said.  
Lupin inclined his head. “But, there is no physical proof for us to take that as the truth.”  
Nyctalope grumbled and shook his head, retreating to the back of the room again. The facts were driving them in circles.  
  
“And the fire?” Rene continued, working past the hot moods of his companions.  
“Deliberate and accelerated from what Fantômas has told me. The boy was locked in and the keys to that room disappeared. Robur summarised the rest of the evidence against you before.”  


“So you've done nothing to help us really,” Jean muttered.  
“By Jove, you're all keen on laying blame this morning,” Lupin defended. “There was nothing I could have done to stop your arrest and I'm far more useful to you out here than in a cell beside you. I can’t recommend you bite the hand that feeds you, Monsieur Degains. For the time being, I have a few cards to play, but I cannot invent evidence for this."

“This is going to drive me mad,” Nyctalope ground out. “Why don't you see if someone else is to blame - I wasn't the only one on that ship!”  
“I'll keep investigating. In the meanwhile I'll bring you some books, it might help take your mind off things. If that doesn't work you can always talk to your friends. Nemo isn’t bad company either when he hasn't got his sword with him,” Lupin explained with a half-smile.

Lupin picked up Nyctalope’s bowl of broth. “And going hungry will do yourself no good. Eat.” He put the almost cold bowl into his cell.   
Nyctalope came towards it and picked it up with reluctance. “Could. Could you get me some water, please?” Nyctalope asked, struggling with a dry throat. Lupin noticed his fingers traced over his chest.  
“Have mine,” Degains said without hesitation.  


Lupin arched an eyebrow. He distinctly noticed something pass between the two. He could only guess this was to do with Nyctalope’s time as a prisoner when he was tortured for information, the time when he’d gotten the burns Lupin had seen a few days prior. He no doubt associated any captivity with a cruel thirst because of that. 

Coqui picked up Degains' full cup and topped it to the brim with what he had left out of his own. Lupin took it and handed it to the young hero.  
“Thank you,” he said, gesturing to all three of them. He then began to drink.   
“I'll bring you some more in a moment. Don't worry. Zenith and I will keep an eye on you.”  
Nyctalope nodded and sat down to pick at his meal.

Lupin's attention turned to Nemo. “Captain, a quiet word if you would not mind. I'll be brief.”  
Nemo came to the bars of his cell and leaned his head through slightly. He had tired eyes and sluggish movements.   
“Can you work with these three here or do you wish to be moved?” Lupin whispered.  
“For the time being, it is not a problem. I will inform you if that changes. You should be aware, the boy was bleeding heavily from his chest. Champeau has mended it again. I advise for you to provide him with another blanket.” 

Lupin nodded, sending a slight glance over to Nyctalope and then left to fetch a book or two and some extra water. Blankets he could fetch later.

Nemo looked at the young man in front of him, noting his shaken attitude and upset nature. This is what Robur did. It was all he was capable of doing and all he would ever do. All he could do was destroy people from the inside out.

“What are your names?” Nemo asked when the young man finished his meal. Nemo could not understand why he felt so inclined to help the boy, even younger than Sawyer. Perhaps that was it. He reminded him of friendlier faces.  
“Nyctalope or Leo Saint-Clair, choose what you wish.” He let the other two say their own full names.

“I expect you know who I am already... I see Robur has turned on you also,” Nemo observed.  
“That is a bit of an understatement. He’s accusing me of attempted murder! Now I'm stuck here whilst the real criminal is still out there, planning his next attack no doubt,” Nyctalope exclaimed. 

“Well, by then he'll realise it's not you,” Ishmael pointed out, without moving from his sleeping position. It didn't really help Nyctalope’s mood, however.   
Nyctalope took to sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning forward and wringing out his hands. The conversation died down as they waited for Lupin’s return.

* * *

**(Continued)**

As Lupin closed the door to the hallway, he came face to face with Robur. He seemed cooler in the face, no longer so riddled with anger.  
“Captain,” Lupin acknowledged.  
“Lupin. I want a word.”  
“Very well. Would you prefer a more private place to speak?”  
“No. Lupin, I no longer want you involved with the Nyctalope case. Look no further into it; I've elected for Fantômas to finish this.”

Lupin stared for a moment and blinked. “You jest.”  
Robur shook his head. “I want you to focus on Nemo. You said yourself we are off task.”  
“No, what I said was that you were making ill-judged assumptions. I never said I wanted to be removed from this. What has changed, Jean? Do you not trust me?” Lupin asked sadly.  
“I've known you long enough to know you're too involved. You aren't distanced from this as you look at the facts. Your judgement is clouded by emotion.”  
“But it is not! I'm the only one-”  
“My word is final, Lupin,” Robur stressed. “Stay out of this. That is an order. I do not forbid you talking to him and seeing to his needs, but I want no investigations. Leave it to Fantômas.”

Lupin glanced at the door behind him. This meant giving up on Nyctalope, letting others pass judgement. It pained him, but he had little choice but to step back. “I won't argue against your decision… but if an idea strikes me I shan't be keeping it to myself.”  
Robur nodded “I ask you to do this for your own good, you understand?”  
Lupin couldn't stop a sour feeling that rose in his chest. He was afraid it seeped into his expression. “We'll see. If you'll excuse me, I have  _ prisoners  _ in need of care.”

“Lupin,” Robur called, but he walked away and did not look back. The captain decided not to push the matter further for the time being. “I’m trying to trust you,” he murmured. With a deep breath, he left in silence.

* * *

**(*A Little While Later*)**

A while later, Lupin returned with a couple of books and two metal flasks of water- one for each row of cells. He hoped the books would help everyone, even if only a little. Nyctalope couldn’t keep struggling like he was. The cold broth hadn’t appeared to agree much with his leaden stomach. His appetite was long gone and Lupin could not blame him, but he’d tried.

“What is it?” Nyctalope asked, noting the dull expression on Lupin’s face.  
He looked down, “Robur wants Fantômas to lead this investigation and for me to have no part in it, or rather what is left of it.”  
“What? Since when?!” Nyctalope exclaimed, standing up from his bed.  
“He came to see me when I left for your books. It's an order I can't disobey, Lèon. My hands are officially tied.”  
That did not help any of the friends’ moods.  
“Fantômas is just as convinced of my guilt,” Nyctalope murmured, letting himself drop back onto the seat.

“He may have forbidden it but I was never one to fully play by the rules. I’ll do all that I can,” Lupin said. He turned to look at Nemo as he said, “For all of you.”

“Captain, do you suppose that the two incidents are connected… What happened to our families and this latest case?” Ishmael wondered out loud. He seemed sure to word his question with care.

Lupin's eyes lit up at the point as Nyctalope took the books from him. What Ishmael said was not likely for the time being as there was no reasoning behind it. It was a mere assumption, a guess, but all the same, what if he was right? It was certainly an unusual coincidence.  
“Perhaps so, Ishmael. Perhaps they are… but then how?” Nemo asked.

_ A question indeed. If only I had the means to answer it…  _ Lupin mused.


	31. White Rook

**Chapter 31 - White Rook  
** **Island X: September 29th**

Zenith hated knowing that Nyctalope had tried to kill Armand the day before- and the way he preached his innocence! Armand did nothing but admire Nyctalope and in return, he had tried to kill both father and son, as well as getting Zenith himself caught in the crossfire. Zenith would have dealt with the matter long ago with a single swing of his sword cane, but alas, he was not the leader of this mission. Besides, many of the group wanted amnesty, so Robur’s actions were logical.

But why? Why would Nyctalope want them dead? How could anyone be so brutal and evil with no valid reasoning? Zenith couldn't fathom it no matter what angle he looked at it. There had to be some sort of reason, no matter how insignificant it may seem. Something was missing.

Sitting by him, Zenith could still smell the heavy smoke on Armand’s hair. It was a cruel reminder of how close he came to injury and death less than a day ago.

Zenith remained by Armand’s bed waiting for him to wake up. He decided to read whilst the boy was sleeping. He tried to organise himself, should he end up being the one to break the news about Nyctalope. But how was Zenith meant to tell him when he could hardly believe it himself? How would the boy take it?

The rustling of material caught Zenith's attention. Glancing to the boy, he found he had awoken and was sitting up.  
“How are you feeling?” the thief asked quietly.  
“Better I think, thank you, monsieur,” Armand replied, rubbing his eyes.

Zenith set his book aside and waited for the young boy to wake up properly.  
“Where's my father?”  
“Dealing with a few errands. I said I'd stay with you until he was finished.”  
“Oh… Well, I'm glad you're with me at least.”  
Zenith smiled gently. He sat straighter, close to the edge of the chair. “Can I get you anything?”

“Some water would be nice if you don't mind,” Armand asked as he cleared his throat.  
There was a large jug of water and an empty glass on the bedside table beside them. Zenith stood up and poured him a drink out.   
“I’m glad to see you’re unhurt, Armand. You’ve been very lucky.”  
“I think both of us have been lucky, sir,” Armand said, taking the glass as it was carefully offered to him. Zenith knew he was referring to when he was poisoned.

The captain’s son began to sip at the water. Zenith sat himself back down and waited. Once Armand’s thirst was quenched he held the glass in his hands and stared down into it.  
“Can I ask you a question, sir?”   
“Go on.”   
“When you. when you were poisoned, were... Were you frightened?”   
The question wasn’t quite what the thief had expected and it compelled Zenith into a delayed response. He inclined his head as he answered. “Not exactly, but then again I have no fear of dying. I had little to fear, although of course I was startled.” 

Armand looked up to him in astonishment. “But how? How can you not fear death? How can you teach yourself to be like that?”  
Zenith's calm and sober response was “I didn't teach myself.” He sighed as he realised that his answer would prove to be of no use to the boy. “Armand, before we go any further into this matter, I need to know if this is about you and that fire?”

Armand looked down again, his hair covered his eyes slightly. “Yes, sir. I. It’s just I panicked. I should have better than that-”  
“Armand,” Zenith cut in, leaning forward to catch his eye. Armand looked up into his pink eyes and pale face. “Fear of death is not a weakness. That's what keeps you fighting to stay alive. From what I’ve heard you actually did very well. You had sense enough to try to prolong the amount of time you had until help came. You were trapped, dear boy. There was nothing you could have done differently… Besides, you don’t need to worry about that anymore. Robur and Fantômas caught who was responsible.” 

Armand seemed to come alive again at the news. “They did?”  
Zenith nodded grimly. The animation left Armand’s face and his shoulders dropped back down.  
Zenith took a breath before saying “We found strong evidence that Nyctalope was responsible for the fire. He was arrested and is now locked away in the cells. He’ll go to France to face the courts.”

“Nyctalope…” Armand muttered. “So- so he poisoned you and tried to shoot my father as well?”  
“It is believed so. The only thing we lack is a stronger alibi, though Fantômas is working on that momentarily. All the rest adds up.”

Much to Zenith’s surprise, Armand stayed quiet. There were no exclamations, no fits of rage, not so much as a disappointed look on his face. He just stared blankly into space, narrowing his eyebrows in confusion, struggling to digest what he had been told. The young hero had betrayed them- betrayed him. What was he expected to say?

“Armand?” Zenith pressed, needing to know how the boy was taking the news.  
“I’m fine, sir. Just a… bit confused, that's all. I can't imagine why he would... well, whatever the reason, he's been caught now. That's the important thing, I suppose.”  
“Of course,” Zenith answered quietly, not quite knowing what to say himself.

A frigid, stiff silence began to dawn on the two. Armand sighed and looked away, trying to build himself up to speak. “The fire doesn’t make sense,” he muttered.  
“How so?” the thief asked patiently.  
“The way he tried to kill me- it. it doesn't make sense. The whole thing depended on the chance I couldn't get out. If it was deliberate, why light the opposite side of my room?” Zenith arched an eyebrow as Armand continued, “Maybe I've thought too far into all this, but surely stabbing me or something would be easier?” Armand stopped himself. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t say that. It’s just I've had nothing better to do all night- he probably just wanted it to look like an accident. It was by chance that the fire was found after all.”

“That is actually some impressive thinking, and there is definitely something to what you say. I don’t mean to startle you, but it's like he wanted you to get out- or even just felt removing the keys would mean the fire had more time.”  
Armand nodded, “I don't understand much of what is going on.”  
Zenith smiled at his honesty “Neither do I, my boy, neither do I. It’s a nasty business.”

Armand pushed past the tiredness that was beginning to creep up on him and, thinking back to the original topic, asked, “How do you control your fears, sir? You and my father seem to do it so well...”  
Zenith leaned back in his chair and sighed, “It's not quite a simple as that, Armand. Your fears are very different from mine- besides, you're only, what, thirteen?”  
“Yes, sir, fourteen in December.”  
“Then you have ample time to learn. I suppose you could say that you have to... channel any fear out and turn it into motivation. The hardest part is keeping your head about you. I'm afraid I cannot teach you how to remain calm. Controlling fear is something you can only master when you're in such a situation.”

“I'm not sure I understand what you mean.”  
“Hmm, think of it this way. Last night, your father was afraid- afraid of losing you. But, rather than letting the fear control him, he used it to prompt him in finding ways of saving you.”  
“Oh, but you make it sound like fears can be very different. Surely fear is just fear?”

In an attempt to hide his awkwardness, Zenith smirked, “But what we fear can be very different. In my case, I haven't been given the best hand of cards in this life. Death does not seem quite so bad in comparison. It would be a generous release and so I _avoid_ getting killed- but I do not fear it.”

“But what about the Mysterious Men? Surely that's something worth having now, isn't it?” Armand replied. He seemed somewhat concerned for the thief. Zenith smiled softly.  
“Yes, yes, I suppose so. There’s a stronger sense of belonging here, being accepted as what you truly are- though I suppose we are all outcasts here in one form or another. The Mysterious Men are more trustworthy than my previous company at any rate, or at least I thought it was.”

“How did you actually end up joining Les Hommes Mysterieux, sir?” Armand wondered. “I remember I was on the ship with my father when we went for Monsieur Lupin, and the others, but you just seemed to appear one morning.”  
Seeing a good opportunity to drift from their current topic, Zenith grew a grin. “That was quite an interesting evening when I was a thief in England. If you would care to listen I wouldn't mind telling you?”  
“Of course,” Armand smiled.

* * *

**Durham City, North East England: July 21st, 1899**

It had been a very successful evening for the thief as he stood on the medieval stone bridge, admiring the astounding view of the cathedral and castle. The two majestic buildings stood side by side on a steep hill above the River Wear. The air was cool, which was actually nicer than Zenith expected. The North East of England had quite a reputation for unkindly weather, much more so than London. Tonight however, he was able to wait in peace, undisturbed by rain or bitter winds. He lit a cigarette with one of his matches and puffed away at it whilst he leaned against his sword cane, disguised as a vagrant with a limp.

There was very little man-made light available to him, but the moon was shining healthily down upon him from the cloudless sky. That was an ample amount of light to work with. The gentle churning of the water was soothing and the crisp air was refreshing. It made the wait for one of his men a little more pleasant.

Zenith had almost finished his cigarette when a man appeared at the end of the bridge and approached him. Zenith recognised him as Billy Smith. Smith looked at him but seemed unsure, likely because he was in disguise. Glancing at his watch, Zenith found it was five minutes past ten. He had meant to meet him twenty minutes ago.

Billy was one of his few men in the county who had helped him with his latest theft. Despite being in his early thirties, he was twig-like, yet he was fully capable of his strenuous job in the coal mines. That was how most men and boys made their money in these parts. The infamous black gold for which the men would have to risk their lives to get. It was a dangerous occupation with feeble pay, but it was better than no job at all.

Smith was a clever man, and that intelligence and knowledge of the area had been helpful. Zenith wouldn't have minded using the man’s skills again. Billy’s blond hair and pale face were still dirty from his shift down in the mine but that would be fixed when he got home no doubt. It was very late, so Zenith wondered why he had not cleaned himself up yet. Had he travelled to the city straight from work?

Zenith spoke up first so he knew he was talking to the right man. “You're late, Smith. It's a good thing the weather is fine.”  
“Sorry, sir. ‘A thowt a was bein’ followed,” Billy explained.

Zenith drew the last bit off his cigarette, blowing the wispy smoke into the air. Now it was finished, he crushed the cigarette end with his heel. The regional accent and dialect of Durham, amused him, even if he couldn't fully understand it all of the time. The thief was getting better at making out what they said. Fortunately, Billy knew how to tone down his accent so he was more understandable.

“Followed? By who?”  
Smith shrugged. “Divn’t know. Just thowt I’d be sure. ‘A had a queer feelin’ that's all.”   
“That's quite alright then. We have done very well over the last few weeks thanks to you. The fortune will be shared equally."  
Billy nodded, “As it should, sir.”  
“But bonuses are given to those who earn them.”

“I wouldn't say I did out special, sir. I mean, I stopped that bloke shooting you, but anyone would do the same.”  
“No, they wouldn't.”

Smith looked a touch bewildered but Zenith made a gesture for him to wait as he put his sword stick in the other hand. Then, he slipped his hand into his pocket. After a moment, Zenith took out a small object wrapped in a piece of cloth. He removed the cloth to reveal a necklace, laced with about eight red gemstones- rubies, and several diamonds which rested on a piece of paper. Now Smith really was surprised, though he also seemed weary.

“Now, I want you to take this to the address written on that piece of paper. You can avoid the police that way. I’d accept no less than-” Zenith leaned forward and whispered a figure into his ear. Smith was stunned.  
“Are. Are yer, sure, sir? That’s more money than I’d make in me whole life...”  
“I'm well aware of its value to you. It’s your rightful pay, a bonus to your normal pay, and you have a sick child to care for; you’ve earned it,” Zenith replied. Zenith wrapped the necklace back up and Smith took the small package gingerly, despite his clear joy in his payment.

“That. that's champion, that is, sir. Honestly, I cannit thank you enough. Do you need ‘iz for anything else?”  
“That's all. Go on, get yourself home,” the thief smiled with a nod. With a touch of his cap, Smith hurried off back home, knowing all debts and payments had been settled.

Zenith started the short walk along the river and back to his rented room, humming to himself as he did. His cane seemed to shatter the silence every time it hit the ground. The trees at either side of the water concealed Zenith from the moonlight. He was sure to maintain his fake hobble as he walked

He thought back to the theft he had conducted only a day beforehand. They had robbed the owner of the coalmine Smith used to work in, as he was particularly ‘well off’ as Smith would describe it. The owner had recently married a particularly wealthy woman, which was where the jewellery had come from. Zenith and his gang had taken mainly that jewellery, though there were several other articles of interest which had been stolen. The pieces would be sold and distributed to his men, his own League. In the meanwhile, he would be off to France on other business.

Zenith could feel the temperature gradually lowering as the clock hands neared midnight. He was keen to get home and get some sleep. It had been a long day and he expected that tomorrow would be even longer.

After half an hour of peaceful walking, Zenith was at the sturdy wooden door of his rented flat. He yawned as he turned the key in the lock, though he paused once he had regained his composure. He crouched down to examine the lock. There were multiple little scratches, which he could not remember being there. The door had definitely been locked when Zenith turned the key just then so he didn’t expect anyone to be inside. All the same, he felt dreadfully uneasy. Smith’s previous mention of being followed, along with the scratches was enough to raise a warning flag. 

“I must have scratched it earlier,” Zenith muttered, trying not to let his imagination run away from him. The thief opened the door cautiously, bringing his hand which held his stick closer to his body. None of the lights were on and he remained in absolute darkness. There was no surprise attack, no ambush- only silence.

Taking a match from his pocket, he struck it against the door frame. He then proceeded to find and light a candle that was waiting for him on a little table. With a now constant light piercing the darkness, Zenith shut the door. He debated on locking it, but opted to leave it, for now, should he need a quick getaway.

Candle in one hand, stick in the other, Zenith searched every room. The thief didn’t bother to light any more lamps or candles. There were only three rooms to check. He looked under tables, checked his bed, and looked in his wardrobe. The windows were all still closed. Nothing was missing or so much as touched. Each room was simply full of empty silence. No one was here. That was when Zenith was able to finally settle and it was only then that the thief went back downstairs to lock the door.

By now it was very late and Zenith decided it was time to go to bed. He removed his disguise and got himself ready in between yawns. He climbed into bed, pulling the blanket up to his chest. Turning on his side, he extinguished the candle that he had carried around with him since he had entered the house. It didn’t take the thief long to fall into a much-needed sleep.

Zenith found himself awake again, though he didn't quite understand why. How long had passed? As his memories of unease came back to him he sat up in his bed. He stared hard into impenetrable darkness. He couldn't even make out a shadow. The room seemed to hum with a murky silence. In the natural quiet of the night, he felt he could hear the air whispering a warning to him.

The thief waited for a long while. He sat, unmoving, bracing himself for whatever was to come. It was impossible for him to separate imagination from fact. His thoughts were already tainted with the creativeness of his mind which could not easily be undone. Another few minutes passed and Zenith found himself to be overwhelmed by tiredness. There was nothing in his temporary accommodation but why was he so nervous?

“A drunkard,” he grumbled.

He forced all thoughts aside, knowing fine well that he was being foolish. Who, if anyone would be after him? It wasn't the police. They couldn't sneak up on a tree, let alone him. There was no way that Sexton Blake would know where he was- and even if he did know, he wouldn't have been able to catch up to him. There was no one else. No one knew he was in Durham; he was surely safe.

With a sigh, Zenith got out of bed, deciding he needed a drink as his dry throat made itself known.  
“I need weaker cigarettes,” he muttered to himself, noting the potency of the opium within them.  
His eyes were beginning to sting with tiredness. Zenith swore to himself that he would go to bed afterwards and pay his ridiculous imagination no more attention. It was too late in the night to be worrying about such petty things.

Zenith hardly made it into the kitchen.

The thief went downstairs and passed through the doorway, into the larger room.  
“ _Bon soir, Monsieur_ ,” a deep voice said.

It hadn't been Zenith’s imagination at all- someone was in his house! Zenith shouted and moved towards the man in an effort to attack him but an arm suddenly wrapped around his neck from behind. He felt them pull down hard. Zenith staggered forwards as he struggled to resist being wrestled to the ground. Whoever it was seemed to be working on trying to make him stay in the kitchen. 

“Calm yourself, Monsieur. We are only here to talk. Stop your fighting and I will release you. I can't have you striking my friend here,” the man holding him said.  
Adrenaline seemed to blur his thoughts. Instinct drove him to shout for help, but a hand clamped onto his mouth and stopped him from making any understandable noise.  
“Hush,” he warned.

Zenith tried shaking his head to dislodge the man but it was impossible due to his grip. Why had he decided against bringing his cane? Terrified of falling captive, he looked around for a weapon. Through the moonlight that pierced through the kitchen window, he saw a knife on the bench on the far side of the room. If only he could get to it!

In a desperate burst of energy, he once more tried to dislodge the man that held him with such vigour. Zenith pulled his attacker's arm away from his mouth, but the grip on his neck tightened as his forearm pressed into his throat. Shouting was not an option. He couldn't breathe. Doubled over and running out of time, he dragged both himself and the extra weight he was carrying as he tried to reach for the knife.

As the two struggled, they knocked over the kitchen chairs. Zenith inched closer and closer to the knife, his attacker seemed to realise his intentions of what he wanted to get. The attacker let go for a moment, but a sudden hand on his ankle and the back of his leg, with a shoulder pushing him just below the knee, made him fall over, forced onto his back. He remained empty-handed.

Zenith rolled onto his front and dived towards the stranger as he tried to get up, fists ready to fly. His first swing missed and much to his surprise the man grabbed his arm, yanking him closer. Zenith ended up between his legs as the man lay on his back. Zenith was on his knees but unable to pull away, he couldn't! The man wrapped his legs around his waist and locked them at the ankles. Zenith knew he was in trouble, this was Ju-Jitsu- and he'd fallen right into his little trap.

Zenith tried to pull away as the man swung his leg around his head and managed to tuck the back of his knee underneath Zenith’s chin. The man then used that leg to push and roll Zenith onto his back, but he did not let go of his arm. That was it. He had him stuck.

Zenith was lying on his side and was held in that position by the foot wedged under his back and the man’s other leg that was over his neck, stopping him from sitting up. Zenith’s arm, thumb facing up, was outstretched in between the man's legs. He held onto him firmly.  
“Do I have the pleasure of addressing Monsieur Zenith?” the man remarked.  
“Release me!” Zenith tried to fight to free his hand.

Within an instant, Zenith felt like he was threatening to break his entire arm. The man had simply raised his hips and pulled down on his arm. It burned for all there wasn't so much as a mark on him. He was stuck and very uncomfortable.

“Let go of me!” Zenith shouted as he tried to get up. The pain intensified, making him hiss.  
“Silence, Zenith. We're not here to hurt you,” the stranger grunted as he struggled to hold him. “Give it up- we're not with the law.”  
“I don't care who you are or why you're here. Get out of my house!”  
“Monsieur, I expect you are well aware of the pain in your arm. This is an arm bar and if you do not calm I will be forced to make that feeling of discomfort much worse.”  
Zenith did what he could to save himself, and that did not exclude nipping.

“Ow! Robur, come let us have some light and then I need the ropes,” his attacker instructed quietly. “Calm, Monsieur, and I will loosen my grip. I only want a word.”  
Zenith made out the second man working in the darkness and hoped he could free himself before he finished lighting up the room. There had to be a way out of this! 

He could not stop squirming, nipping and fighting. He did not trust these men and compliance risked everything. Yet the more he battled the more he understood its fruitlessness. The man was able to get a wrist lock on his already restrained hand, drawing a yelp from him.  
“I won't ask again, Zenith. You bring this upon yourself, you know? Stop struggling.”

The light stung his eyes. Zenith knew of no one bearing the name Robur and the thief had no intentions of finding out who he was. If only he could get this wretched man to let go!

His struggle began to get more vocal as his frustration grew. He tried to push the man's leg off his neck but his hand was dragged away and a gag tied by Robur immediately limited his chances of calling for help. He tried to use a sudden surge of power to free himself, but the man anticipated such. The pain increased more than ever, from the top to the bottom of his arm. Zenith shouted with the pain.

“Rope, Robur, quickly.”

Zenith lay on the ground helpless as his trapped hand was wrapped up two or three times with rope and knotted. The first man sat up, releasing the wrist lock but not letting go of his arm. By moving most of the pain stopped, which felt to be a great relief. Now he could do more at least.

From there he was rolled onto his back. Zenith yanked his arm away but the man held onto the rope that bound him, dragging his hand towards the small of his back. He tried to stand and get away but Robur knelt on his back. With an “oof”, Zenith plopped down to the ground. After that, it was easy for them to catch his other hand and bind them behind his back.

Exhausted, and defeated, Zenith tested the rope’s strength and found he couldn’t break out or even unpick it. This was a professional binding. There was nothing to be done- he was finally left at their mercy. He was finished, done for, vanquished. His stomach lurched.

The men stepped away from him for a moment, which enabled Zenith to roll onto his side. A few minutes passed in silence as the two of them caught their breath. Zenith looked towards his attackers. One had their back to him, but the other was a man of strong build with grey hair and an American goatee. Zenith was sure he was the one called Robur. The thief watched as he picked up the two chairs, putting them back on their feet and sat down in one of them.

“Well, that was more painful than I thought. A thousand apologies, Monsieur Zenith, but we need to speak with you,” the first man remarked, rubbing the back of his leg where he'd been nipped as he turned to face him. In the rather dim light, Zenith could see he was, at first glance, your average looking gentleman, with raven black hair and a handsome face. Zenith grunted in annoyance and sat up, trying to wiggle out of his bindings or at least escape the gag.

The youngest man helped Zenith onto his feet at which the thief tried to snatch himself out of his grip. He refused to give up when he had an opportunity to test his luck. The man reached out and grabbed him by his pyjama shirt.  
“Don't bother yourself, monsieur. You did bring this upon yourself,” the stranger sighed, almost as if disappointed. “You know you enjoy the mystery. Will you sit down?”

He had to roughly guide the albino into the spare seat. “Come, a wee bit of string around the arms to save me anymore trouble. There we are, not so bad, is it? By Jove we're agreeing like old friends,” he grinned. Zenith shouted through his gag in protest but the new rope around the arms secured him to the chair. The cheek of him!

“Will you stop aggravating him? The situation is bad enough as it is,” Robur warned the younger man.  
He smirked to himself, “My apologies.”  
Zenith didn't know whether to be anxious or not with the two men's attitudes. He looked back and forth between the two with an arched eyebrow, waiting to see what happened next.

“Here is my first offer, Monsieur. I will take that gag off if you comply to not cry out. If you shout, it goes back on and you won't have it removed again. I suggest you use that freedom to ask whatever questions you want to know the answer to. Does that sound fair to you? Good, now hold still,” the younger man explained.  
He moved behind him and began to loosen the knot at the back of his head. Zenith was in a foul mood and when he saw the opportunity to kick his attacker, he did not let it go to waste. As soon as the gag was removed, he drove his heel back as hard as he could in the man's leg. He yapped as the pain hit him.

“By Jupiter, that was a good kick! Was that really necessary, Monsieur?”  
“That was for trying to break my arm. You mean no harm indeed!” Zenith muttered with a cough as the stranger backed away and rubbed his shin vigorously.   
“As I have said, you brought that upon yourself. I gave you every opportunity to de-escalate the situation.”

Zenith shook his head and turned his attention to Robur. Robur leaned an elbow against the table and hid a small smirk behind his half clenched hand, but despite that, Zenith sensed that things were to become serious now.

“Monsieur Zenith, we came here on behalf of the French Government who require your services,” Robur said, moving his hand away.  
“I'm not interested,” Zenith answered bluntly, even now trying to figure a way out of the ropes that bound him. His fingers worked to find something of use.

Robur said, “On the contrary, I believe you will find what we have to say to be most interesting.”  
“I suppose I have no choice but to listen. I'd much have prefered you to leave this until the morning. Before you tell me any more about this nonsense, I want to know who the pair of you are and why you decided that the best way to talk to me was by grabbing me in the middle of the night.”  
The older gentleman spoke up first with an incline of his head “Captain Jean Robur.”

The second man, now able to tolerate the pain in his shin said “It was my idea to come here tonight in this manner, Monsieur. You would not have come quietly even if I knocked on your door. We arrived here late and we couldn't afford to lose you and have to chase you around the globe. As for who I am, I expect you have heard of me, though you don't know my face belongs to the name; I am Arsène Lupin.”

Zenith looked at him in disbelief. “The Arsène Lupin, or someone bearing the same name as the thief?” he queried.  
Lupin bowed down. He answered “The one and only. Do you have any more questions?”  
“If I misunderstand anything after your explanation, I will say so,” he answered. 

He felt safer in believing what the men said to be true. If this was Lupin, then he had nothing to fear… hopefully. Embarrassment was quite another thing. Here he was bound to a chair wearing his pyjamas in front of one of the greatest thieves in the world… it certainly wasn't his finest hour but he held up his head all the same.

Robur caught his attention. “The threat of war is hanging in the air and the government has requested that Lupin and I produce a group of the world’s finest and smartest men to form a team. However, men who meet these criteria are- more often than not- criminals, at least so far that is. Zenith, we have selected you to join this team we are acquiring.”

“Would I have to do this out of the good of my heart or is there a reward for my services?” Zenith asked.  
“There is a financial reward at the end, yes. It is both money and, although you mostly cause trouble in England, promised amnesty in France- unless you begin stealing again, in which case your amnesty is forfeited,” Lupin replied. “There are… other things, that you may find more of interest?”

“Such as?” Zenith furrowed his brow.  
“There are individuals in the French Government who… how do I put this? Know about your past… your majesty. They wish to expose you to the public.”  
Zenith ground his teeth together. “Do not call me that ever again!” he seethed.  
Lupin inclined his head. “I understand. Those in charge of this operation have agreed to destroy that file, and your secrets can be kept safe.”

Zenith took a deep breath and calmed himself. How deep of a hole did he have to dig to hide his past?! “It sounds too good to be true, which means it probably is. What's the catch and for how long would I be in this group?”  
Robur answered “Timings can vary. It's a matter of coming to us when we contact you. Our first mission should be finished by the new year if we plan thoroughly. There is no real catch. You can decline any mission and wait for the next one if there’s a valid excuse but be warned that once you are in a mission, there is no going back. We must see it through.”

“Hmm… and the chances of death?”  
“Unlikely provided you do as you're told,” Robur reported.  
“Well that's good enough for me I suppose. I'd like something official to prove all of this, however, and I don't mean something Lupin has forged, pardon my saying.”  
“If you want such proof you'll have to come with us in the morning,” Lupin pointed out.

“I am not agreeing to any of this yet, but I must say you have-” he looked down at his bindings, “captured my interest. I'm going to France tomorrow anyway,” Zenith admitted.  
“I'll have someone pick you up at ten tomorrow,” Robur said.  
Zenith yawned. “Very well… Now, would you be so kind as to untie me? I would like to go back to bed.”


	32. Betrayal

**Chapter 32 - Betrayal  
** **Island X: September 30th**

It took less than a day for Fantômas to gather the required evidence against Nyctalope. He was pleased with his fortune. A thorough search of his room alone had provided him with the evidence he needed. He could prove he was right, and he knew who he had to convince. He took his findings to Lupin at once.

What Fantômas had collected were a series of letters of great interest and the keys to Armand’s room. It was all the evidence that Fantômas could produce for the time being and it certainly made a more believable motive and stronger evidence. This, along with the previous evidence of Nyctalope's clothes, had to be more than enough to change Lupin's opinion.

Fantômas found Lupin in his room, working at his desk. The door was wide open.  
“Lupin,” Fantômas inquired, standing at the doorway.  
“Something I can help you with, Monsieur?” Lupin asked without looking up.  
“I found several articles of interest in Saint-Clair’s room. I think you ought to see these for yourself.” Fantômas explained, shutting the door behind him. Lupin paused in his work and looked up at his hidden face.

“That is all well and good, but you know Robur wants me to have no more involvement in this. I'm to focus on Captain Nemo’s welfare and work rate.”  
Fantômas made a scoffing sound “Since when did Arsène Lupin care for the rules?”  
“I don't, but for the sake of the mission, I've deemed it to be best. Much to my own amazement, _I'm_ on thin ice.”

Fantômas handed Lupin the keys he had found. “Think of it as my asking for a second opinion. You wanted more proof, then I give it to you. I know this affair troubles you.”  
“In that case…” Lupin rose from his seat and moved to stand beside him. “Where did you find these?”  
“In Nyctalope’s possession: hidden in the guttering of his balcony. A strong rainfall would have washed them away.”

Lupin shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but Fantômas raised his hand. “I know what you will say- that they could be planted, but I must disagree. These were to be disposed of with minimum chance of discovery by another party.”  
“I was going to say how on Earth did you find them in that case?”  
“Admittedly, chance. I'd climbed back up on the roof to see what you had seen, and as I came down, there they were, as close to the pipe as anyone could reach to put them.”

Lupin sat back down, his posture straighter than before and almond-shaped eyes wide. “Is there more?”

He nodded, handing the papers over to the thief. Fantômas waited as Lupin skimmed his eyes across the first page. “These are from the government ordering Robur to take Nyctalope into our group.” He turned the page “And Robur was none too happy about it. He didn't want him and he had no intention of going after Khan in return for his services.”

A light seemed to switch on in Lupin's eyes. “And Nyctalope had these?”  
“Yes. He'd pulled a piece of the skirting board off the wall and was able to hide them behind it.”  
“Well, you’re certainly thorough,” Lupin smirked.  
“I know what to look for. I noticed there was dust on the floor and scuff marks where he'd pulled a chest across, evidently to keep it in place.”

Lupin was surprised, “Well by Jove, I'm glad Robur has you looking into things.”  
“You're out of practice, Lupin.” Fantômas jibed, but with more of a teasing intention. “And yet I will say Robur was unprecedented in not letting you look into this matter any more.”  
Lupin shrugged “I’m surprised to see you agree with me. This whole affair is frustrating, to say the least. Though it has meant I can pay extra attention to Nemo. Someone has to remember our original purpose.”

Silence tried to stumble across them. Fantômas asked, “Did you already know this- that Robur didn't want Nyctalope?”  
Lupin nodded. “Robur told me that he did not want Nyctalope to be part of Les Hommes Mystérieux. But I did not expect for his reluctance to have been so great. I hadn't expected for him to argue against the government that's for certain.”  
Lupin narrowed his brow “If Nyctalope found out that Robur had no intention of going after Sadi Khan…"  
“It may have been enough to make him angry, maybe even loathsome.” Fantômas looked down at the letters. “And when Robur and Nyctalope argued. He may have felt enough was enough. He wasn’t going to work for Robur for nothing.”

“It is possible. Nyctalope told me they argued over Robur placing the flags and that evolved into Robur criticising his decisions when he went to get his father's work back. You said yourself things got heated on board,” Lupin explained. “But he could have lied to me about what the argument was about. It may be worse than we anticipate.”  
“There's no way of telling. I believe he targeted Robur’s son as revenge. A punishment worse than his own death,” Fantômas said.  
Lupin nodded, stunned at what was unravelling before him.

Lupin struggled to deny the facts that were laid in front of him. “I just… fail to believe Nyctalope would do something like this. Even with the motive, some pieces of this puzzle don’t make sense. And where does Nemo fit amongst all this...”

“Nemo is irrelevant,” Fantômas grumbled. “I understand what I say is not a full motive, but we both know that Nyctalope would retaliate. He is not as gold-hearted as you all think. You know what happened when he fell into enemy hands on his first assignment. That is enough to change anyone’s mentality- especially that of a young man. He is more violent and angry from what I hear.”

“I'd imagine so…”

Fantômas paced “Lupin it all makes sense now, surely! He felt used and was put in great danger for nothing. That, along with other factors, has driven him onwards and every failure has only made him angrier. Believe me, Lupin, they are guilty- all four of them.”  
“Yes... Yes, I suppose you're right. I admit I have... been mistaken.” Lupin frowned. “But upon my word he had such an innocent look about him. To have hidden all of this…”  
Fantômas couldn't help but note the tinge of doubt that remained in his voice. “All the best ones do,” he muttered.   
“Indeed, thank you for showing me these,” Lupin continued.

Fantômas nodded. “I'm sorry for the disillusion you had about the boy. I suppose he's just a criminal like the rest of us.”  
Lupin shrugged, handing him the papers back. “It happens. At least you have been here to correct me before anything irreversible occurred.”  
“I advise you not to tell Robur about this. Not only because he did not want me to tell you any of my findings, but I fear for his temper also. I struggled to persuade Robur only to arrest Nyctalope… If I tell him of more evidence yet, it might feed the flames, rather than diminish them.” Fantômas went to the window and looked out upon the dreary land. Lupin had to agree with the reasoning. What a mess this was turning out to be!

Lupin nodded silently; sullenly. He was then left alone with these thoughts as Fantômas disappeared. The thief got up and closed the door. He sat down again with his hands on his head, leaning on the table.

Lupin thought back to what Nemo had told him, how Robur was a self- centred monster. Had Lupin allowed himself to believe that Armand changed things? But what was it that seemed so… off? Even though he had said otherwise, his gut still told him that this wasn't quite as Fantômas proposed. Lupin never argued against his gut, for he knew of its reliability. There was more to this, and he was powerless to look into it, at least for now.

Lupin sighed in frustration. For every answer he found, a handful more took their place. He knew that he had to find the right path- to start asking and answering the right questions. Time was pressing and Lupin knew that he had to be ready. His gut warned him a vicious storm had been brewing for far too long… and he dreaded its upcoming arrival. Something or someone was going to snap.

Despite Fantômas’ warning, he got up. He needed to talk to Robur.

* * *

**Island X: Continued**

Robur wasn't in the mood to have to justify himself to his second in command, but Lupin was set on trying to dig for nonexistent answers. Lupin had not been coming to see him over the last few days, so Robur was surprised when he did show up that night. All the same, it was an unwelcome change.

“What do you want this time, Lupin?” Robur asked tiredly, sitting behind his desk in his office.  
The thief walked over to Robur's work area and simply replied “Answers.”  
“To which questions?”  
“All of them. Why are you so convinced Nyctalope is responsible for this?”

“Have you been asleep for the last month? You know exactly why I find him guilty.”  
“And yet it could just as easily have been someone else. What do you have against that boy- before any of the attempts?”  
“I’ve already told you to keep out of this. I didn't want him as part of the Mysterious Men. I won't tell you anymore.”

“You knew fine well that the Mysterious Men would split in two when you arrested him and his friends,” Lupin accused.  
Robur did not seem fazed if anything he looked amused. “The Mysterious Men physically cannot split; they are stuck on an island until I decide otherwise. Not that I know what split you speak of. You're alone in this, Lupin. Everyone else has accepted his guilt.”

“Robur, why are you being so irrational, and I don't just mean this business with Nyctalope?”  
Robur furrowed his brow “I don’t follow you.”  
“My opinion used to be crucial to you, but now you treat me like I'm a common fool. You cut me from this investigation! Do you think I’m defending that boy because I like him? I am doing it because the evidence simply does not add up. None of you have thought this all the way through- you’re acting on impulse and not out of logic.” Lupin paused and settled himself as his red raw anger tried to flare up again.

With a deep breath, he resumed “It's been three days now. Why are you insistent on keeping those three locked up? Our focus was on Nemo and now we’re fighting like animals! How long is this going to go on for?”  
“We’re off track because of Nyctalope. You are the one who is lengthening the duration of the commotion, Lupin. We caught who was responsible, now leave it.”   
“No,” Lupin said defiantly, clenching one of his fists. The sapphire ring on his hand gave him something to direct his frustration onto. “You’re hiding something about Nyctalope-”

Just then, Robur’s son came running into the room, throwing the door open and caring not for manners. He was soaking wet from the heavy rain outside. Lupin guessed he was in so much of a hurry he had not picked up his coat.  
“Armand, what are you doing?” Robur demanded, not used to his son entering in such a way.

“The Nautilus! She's surfaced near the Island- I only just spotted her. She'll be here in a few minutes!”  
“You're sure-” 

There was no further warning. They couldn’t brace themselves for the almighty explosion that shook their bones and rattled their teeth. Armand managed to grab onto the doorframe to steady himself. “They’re firing at us!” the young boy exclaimed.

Robur took charge. “Lupin, secure the prisoners. Your priority is Nemo and Nemo alone. Armand, stay here. I want you safe. If you have to leave here keep well away from the Albatross and the cells.”  
“But-” his son began.  
“Armand, this is too dangerous. Nyctalope may have told Nemo you're my son and he gets a hold of you, he'll kill you. Now stay where it's safer. I'll get Turner to come and get you,” Robur insisted, raising his voice ever so slightly.

“Yes, sir,” Armand said quietly, his shoulders drooping.

Robur then left. If he didn't move the Albatross then there would be another explosion. The ship wasn't filled with gas, but it was those powerful engines that Robur was wary of. That ship was their main exit and Robur didn't doubt they knew it.

Now it was a race against time. The League would ruin everything.

* * *

 **_The Nautilus_ ** **, Island X: Continued**

The conning tower had barely drained itself of water when an almighty rumble echoed throughout the water. The noise was so loud and sudden that all of the League startled. For a moment Mina’s eyes flashed red, ready for danger. Quatermain’s hand fired towards his gun but he opted to leave it in his belt.  
“What was that?” Sawyer exclaimed, running over to the observation window. Even being under the water, he could make out a flash of an explosion on the Island. “We haven't just shot at them, have we?!”  
“I don't think so. Come on, we'll have to find Pavan. I think we've just lost our element of surprise,” Quatermain grumbled.

Mina glanced at Skinner, staring out the observation window. She could see him wringing out his hands, the anxiety obvious. His nervousness towards fire had not improved as much as he had wanted. He wore a grim expression about his face. She sent him a fearless and supportive look. Skinner swallowed hard. Things were getting desperate already.

* * *

**Island X: Continued**

Coughing as the dust filled his lungs, Lupin hurried to his room. He was almost there when he realised the ceiling above him was cracked and uncertain. The lights had broken, filling the room with darkness. He could see only silhouettes. Dust and dirt escaped the little cracks and trickled down onto him. Lupin rushed to get his gun, even if he did hate using it. 

Against what Armand said, Lupin was sure the explosion had come from within the fortress. It was not the League or any other outsider. Had it been the Nautilus, he doubted the explosion would make it so far down into the building. The traitor had struck again, this time he was struck hard, aiming to cause as much damage as possible, caring not for who got caught amongst it. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was Nyctalope or if he was trapped in his cell.

Just as Lupin rounded the corner to enter his room he was met with the swing of a plank of wood. His mind didn't register it in time and he staggered sideways as it hit him in the head.

A second blow was on its way. Lupin struggled to see it but brought his arms up to shield his face. The force still rattled him.

Lupin ducked under the third swing and leapt at his attacker's knees. They both fell to the floor, and the other dropped their weapon. Lupin looked up at his attacker and froze. Even with no light, he could tell who it was.  
“Nyctalope?” he exclaimed. “You?!” Nyctalope grabbed something from his pocket and plunged it into the top of Lupin's shoulder. He gasped and pulled out the needle. At once, shadows plagued his body.

"W.what…"

Nyctalope managed to free himself enough to land a good few blows at the thief's head and face as he did so. Lupin's vision was well and truly swimming as his eyes watered. Lupin hastily wiped them as best he could, but that, along with the dust and the dark practically rendered him blind. His body was very slowly growing numb, heavy, tired. Nyctalope must have drugged him.

“I want an easy kill. Surely you can't be that surprised?” Nyctalope muttered as he stood up, leaving Lupin on the floor stunned and dazed. The many hits to the head left him feeling disorientated. Nyctalope went over to the door and closed it. Lupin could taste blood in his mouth and felt a sting in his lip from the punches.

“I've been wrong before,” Lupin muttered, wiping his lip with his thumb and trying to sit up. Nyctalope stepped forwards and grabbed the neck of his shirt. Lupin had enough time to bring his foot between them both. As Nyctalope sent another blow towards him, Lupin was able to push him away with a strong kick in the gut. He scrambled to his feet, trying to shake off his dizziness.

Nyctalope came at him again and Lupin swung at him, right into his cheek with a satisfying smack. The force of the blow, along with the ring on Lupin's finger was enough to take a chunk of skin off Nyctalope’s jaw. He staggered back again.

With wobbly but certain strides, Lupin approached Nyctalope, hands up and ready. He was still able to see enough to know where his opponent was standing but he was at a disadvantage. Nyctalope could see in the dark, whereas Lupin could not. Nyctalope brandished a knife and seemed eager to use it. Lupin could not mistake its shape or cruel glimmer in the faintest light. Two stood for a moment, catching their breath. For a long moment, nothing else mattered- it was just him and the young man who wanted him dead.

Nyctalope struck out first, swinging for Lupin’s chest with the knife. Lupin jumped back to dodge and then forwards with fierce agility. He struck him hard in the face and lunged at him, pinning him against the wall, he grabbed Nyctalope’s wrists, pressing his fingers right into the pressure points. Nyctalope snarled, kneeing him and trying to headbutt him in a bid to free himself. Lupin worked through the pain and squeezed tighter and tighter until the knife fell out of his hand. He had to sort this before that drug could take full effect.

Now disarmed, Lupin struck out. He elbowed Nyctalope on the side of his face, making his head snap to the side. The skin surrounding Nyctalope’s eye would soon start to change colour and swell. Lupin needed to get him to the floor, but Nyctalope knew exactly what he wanted- and he had no intention of allowing it. He managed to turn Lupin around as they grappled, slamming him against the wall, and he was able to disengage.

The two continued their fistfight for a few moments, Lupin couldn't keep up with Nyctalope’s skill. He was too fast, too strong. He held nothing back. Lupin was feeling the effect of the strikes and the needle plagued him but focused on keeping Nyctalope away from that knife, and looked hard for an opportunity to use his Ju-Jitsu. Could he reach the door?

Lupin landed a kick at the centre of his stomach but it did little other than push him back. Nyctalope ran at him, tackled him with as much force as he could muster, bringing his shoulder directly into Lupin’s gut. Lupin had neither the time nor space to evade. The couple smashed into the wall, a loud thud echoing off the surrounding walls. All of the momenta slammed into Lupin’s stomach and ribs. Nyctalope kept punching him after that, driving him to the ground. He wouldn't let up, refused to stop.

Lupin groaned as he slid down the wall and to the floor, winded and curled up as he struggled to protect himself, to recover. Eventually, the blows stopped. He saw Nyctalope standing watching him, his chest heaving, though it seemed to shudder with anger. Shadows clouded Lupin’s vision. He tried to shake himself out of it, but that made him feel worse. He didn't have long.

“Not bad at all, Nyctalope... Not bad at all,” Lupin commented weakly from the ground. “So you've finally shown your cards... Why do you want me out of the picture?”  
“I'm here to kill you, not for conversation,” Nyctalope replied darkly.  
“My goose… is. isn't cooked just yet.”

Before he could continue the thought, Nyctalope scooped up the knife from the ground. Lupin tried to scramble away but he grabbed a fistful of Lupin’s hair. He pulled upwards, dragging Lupin half up to his feet. The thief ended up on one knee. Gritting his teeth, Lupin tried, but couldn’t get to the pressure point on Nyctalope’s wrist.  
“Yes, it is.”

Lupin tried to get to Nyctalope’s elbow to attack another pressure point but he had no time. Nyctalope pulled his head backwards and sent a fist holding the knife into his nose. The blade didn't touch him though he felt a resounding crack. Even more blood began to flow down Lupin’s face.

Lupin yelled as he acknowledged the pain. He could hardly reach to swing for Nyctalope due to the position he was forced to maintain. One hand scrambled to find a way of freeing his hair. He could only try to hit him in the liver but Nyctalope gave him little chance to do even that. He was too careful. 

He had one other choice. Lupin reached down into the ground and seized a handful of dust. He launched it into Nyctalope’s eyes. Blinded and losing patience Nyctalope swung at him with the knife. Lupin threw himself back despite the pain of his hair, saving his throat but the blade still slashed his chest, causing the thief to cry out again. Nyctalope punched him in the throat and threw Lupin to the ground, cutting off his cry.

Nyctalope watched as Lupin gasped for air. Lupin held his chest as his face was contorted in pain. He looked up at him with a cold and yet watery glare. Lupin couldn’t keep this up and Nyctalope knew it. He looked down at his chest and moved his hand away an inch. He was not pleased with the blood he found dripping from his fingers.

Lupin coughed in a bid to catch his breath. “By Jove, p.playing with your prey before you go in for the kill- I think... you've been spending too much time with Fantômas.”  
“I've often wondered if you really are as optimistic as they say you are when faced with death,” Nyctalope taunted.  
“Yes, well, you s.should always bow before… before curtain,” Lupin coughed, with a defiant smirk.  
“You won't be smiling when I'm through with you.”

Lupin hardened his glare and forced himself to his feet as Nyctalope approached again, blade at the ready. He swayed badly, his legs were wobbly. He was not going to let him get away with this. He wasn't going to die because he'd been tricked and ambushed when everyone else had insisted on his guilt. That was just a joke in bad taste. Lupin kicked at Nyctalope, hitting him square in the chest, pushing him away again rather than striking. His opponent stumbled backwards; tripped over some rubble; and landed on Lupin’s bed. Lupin nearly fell over with the force.

The ceiling above them cracked and groaned, parts of it even gave way. Lupin took his chance and staggered out of the room, clinging to his worst felt injuries. Nyctalope went after him with a murderous gleam in his eyes. It was then that the ceiling completely gave up. Stones began building up between the two of them, refusing them the option of continuing their duel. Lupin threw himself into another corridor, wrapping himself up in his blazer jacket as he began to feel the cold. Nyctalope had to run backwards, past Lupin’s room and in the direction of the cells.

Lupin was not safe yet however, the rubble chased after him, snapping at his heels like a stampede. Lupin finally crumpled to the floor unmoving and unconscious, and rocks fell upon him. The bottom half of his body was buried in debris. 

He was left at the mercy of fate.


	33. Infiltration

**Chapter 33 - Infiltration  
** _**The** _ **_Nautilus_ ** **, Coast of Island X: September 30th**

After speaking to an equally baffled Pavan, the news that the League heard was not what they wanted. The Nautilus had not fired a single shot, so the explosion must have come from the Island itself. Finding Ishmael and Nemo had just become far harder than what they hoped. Had those two done it?

The League hurried to prepare for the conflict. Skinner went to wipe his grease paint off and Jekyll to get his potion. Sawyer and Quatermain had to go for their guns and to top up how much ammunition they were carrying. Mina changed into more suitable clothing for fighting. Meanwhile, Pavan brought the Nautilus back to her birthplace. The acting captain steered with an expert hand, but he was still cautious. He had never steered the ship in these waters himself before.

Skinner and Mina made their way to the conning tower of the Nautilus and out into the open air. It was bad weather. The winds were strong and the rain heavy. There wasn't much light due to the black clouds overhead and the fact that they had the cover of night.

“Is this a good time to mention that I don’t like heights either?” Skinner asked, removing his coat and guiding Mina to where his arms were. She seized hold.  
“Then I wouldn't look down,” Mina replied but her voice was harsh, like a growl as she allowed herself to turn into a more vampiric state.

Without warning they were up in the air and Skinner couldn't help but give a little shout in alarm. They went to an impressive height as Mina forced herself to ignore him, she could feel his pulse on her fingers; the blood gushing through his veins. She struggled to focus. Not Skinner, she couldn't feed on him. Not him, just a little longer.

Mina looked at the Albatross and tried to concentrate on reaching it. The wind threatened to push her out of the air but she kept on track with a furious determination. She needed her willpower of steel now more than ever.

It did not take them long to make it onto the ship. Skinner had to admit the Albatross was impressive. It wasn't anywhere as near as big as the Nautilus but still, for something like that to be able to fly! There were thirty or so masts, each with two screws on top to give her flight. Amongst it all, there were multiple cabins on the deck, which Skinner guessed he would have to check later. The wind and the amount of air the screws projected made it very difficult for Mina to fly. He hoped she was strong enough to hold on.

She dropped Skinner onto the back of the Albatross and he had to roll to break his fall. She left to serve as an efficient distraction. Most of the men had the sense to run, but some remained to fight. The thief couldn't help but smirk as he managed to find a way down below. He was going to enjoy making the Albatross drop like a stone- provided he didn't fall with it.

* * *

**(*Meanwhile*)**

Pavan brought the Nautilus to a suitable docking spot, perhaps a mile away from the fortress, and the crew then hurried to unload two of the three automobiles. They had one with a roof and the other without. The League insisted that none of the crew went with them. Pavan was the only exception and that was because he could drive. He was in the automobile with a roof with Jekyll whilst Quatermain and Sawyer were in the other without a roof.

The two automobiles set off quickly. The wheels chewed at the gravelled dirt beneath them and the engines were chomping at the bit as they hurried to the fortress. Sawyer was driving the other Automobile, which contained only Quatermain. They were headed to the back of the fortress, where the more discreet exit lay. Their automobile had no roof, and so they were pounded by the heavy wind and rain. Quatermain had to keep hold of his hat and it made his fingers numb.

Pavan and Jekyll were heading to the front of the Fortress. They were the big distraction. The one thing they depended on. The Mysterious Men did not know of Quatermain’s existence or even if Sawyer was alive. They would not expect them. It was an excellent scheme if it worked and everyone was kept safe. Now all that was left for them to do was cross their fingers.

Sawyer branched off from Pavan before anyone in the fortress could see them. They drove off and did not use their headlights to aid their concealment. They were the ones who were going to have to get Nemo and Ishmael. Sawyer just hoped the plan wasn’t so simple the Mysterious Men would suspect it.

They arrived at the back of the fortress in good time and thus far undetected. It was where all the supplies were handled and it was far easier to conceal themselves and their Automobile here. The crates and barrels and empty trays proved useful in hiding the automobile. To be sure, they covered their transportation in a nearby canvas. It also stopped it from filling up with the rain. Sawyer had Nemo's sword in the automobile. He took it out and kept it at hand for Nemo.

The two froze as they heard footsteps. They grabbed their guns and ducked out of sight. A young boy that appeared, facing away from them. He had his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. He must have run to get out of the battered building.

“Now what?” Sawyer whispered.

Quatermain put his finger to his lips. They had to hope he would move of his own accord. Sawyer peered around a crate with baited breath. He was looking in their direction, towards the automobile. He knew the covering did not belong. He came closer, at which Sawyer hid again.

Quatermain gestured for him to remain still as he made a move, slipping away to the side. Sawyer pulled a face of confusion. The boy would see him if he came much closer. If the boy ran off he'd raise the alarm. They'd have to catch him, but then what? He hoped Quatermain had a plan. Sawyer thought he'd do whatever it took to get Nemo back, but he wasn't going to hurt a kid. Dammit, why was he even here?!

Sawyer could hear him taking hold of the canvas that covered the automobile and pulling at it.  
"Oh no," he murmured. More footsteps and the boy came into Sawyer's sights, and he into the boy's.  
"Uh, hey," Sawyer remarked.

The boy was about to bolt when Quatermain spoke up. “Don't move." The boy turned with a gasp, stepping back. He saw the rifle hanging limp in his hand. His face paled. He shuffled back towards the closest weapon he could find: a plank of wood.

“Get away from me!” he shouted. He held the plank in the air, ready to swing. Despite his efforts to show otherwise, they could see the slightest shake in his hand; his gulps; and his jittery breathing. They could see his fear.

The child’s eyes darted back and forth. He was debating on fleeing so Sawyer spoke up. “The two prisoners, they still in the cells?”  
For a moment the boy did not reply, he had no intention of revealing anything.  
“Speak up,” Quatermain warned. “Tell us, and you’re free to go.”   
Slowly, the boy nodded his head. “I. I think so- The cells are near where the explosion hit,” he gulped, pointing to his left. Sawyer cast a glance at where he gestured to where he pointed. Quatermain was too well experienced to look.

But it made no difference. He launched the wood like a javelin towards them with all his strength. For a young boy, he threw it with an impressive degree of strength and accuracy. Quatermain had to duck to evade it. Without looking back, the boy ran behind the safety of the crates; he continued to run around the perimeter of the fortress. There went their element of surprise, again.

Sawyer was about to make chase but Quatermain stopped him.  
“We haven’t the time to get after him. He's gone the long way around at least. Come on!”

The two hurried into the fortress and began the search. The hallways were tall and wide. It was immense, to say the least, but all the same, it was… cold. The stone walls were dark and damaged, dusty and decayed with age.  
“Stick together, this place is too big to be getting lost in,” Quatermain said as they climbed a flight of stairs.

Sawyer concentrated on staying focused. They were so close now. This was it - the final stretch. He gripped Nemo's sword tighter. The fight for Nemo and Ishmael seemed to finally be coming to an end.

* * *

**(*Meanwhile*)**

Ishmael awoke, coughing and wheezing with the dust stealing away his senses. His eyes felt welded shut and his throat clogged almost with cement. Terror scrambled for a grip on his heart and his pounding pulse deafened him. He struggled to breathe and he couldn't move. Bricks, dust, and debris pressed down upon him without mercy. It felt like his hips and ribs were going to shatter. He groaned in pain.

The explosion had disorientated him. He could barely acknowledge the position he was lying in amongst the rocks. But he knew he had to get up. He needed to find Nemo and leave this hell behind. Now could be their only chance. If only he could unbury himself.

With a grunt, he tried to wriggle free but there was no way for him to move. He felt something sharp threatening to dig into his back. That was the greater threat. There was nothing for him to do but lie still, pinned, trying to gulp precious air. His choking continued relentlessly. The dust rose like smoke, delving deep into his lungs and tasting damp and gritty.

“Ishmael?!” he heard a voice call out between coughs. Nemo. It was Nemo. Ishmael couldn't see him in his makeshift crypt.  
“Captain?” he croaked out.  
“Where are you?”  
Ishmael's coughing started again. The dust was unbearable.

“I. I'm trapped. I can't see a thing!”  
“Keep calling out to me; I will find you.”   
Ishmael could hear him clambering over rubble a fair distance away. He kept shouting and calling. It didn’t take long for Nemo to follow his voice. Ishmael felt the gradual relief of rubble being pulled away from him brick by brick.

Nemo clawed at the rocks, flinging them away from him. He’d managed to unbury his head at least. The air wasn’t so heavy now. Ishmael kept coughing, hoping to clear the muck from his airways.

“Are you hurt?” Nemo asked him.  
Ishmael shook his head. “No. I'm alright for now.” They both froze, hearing the cruel creak of a metal door.

“Run, Captain,” Ishmael whispered. Nemo heard him, he understood what he said, but chose to ignore him. He continued to move rubble and rocks. Ishmael saw a shadow coming towards them. "Please, it's you they want."  
"I won't leave you in harm's way."  
"You can't-"  
There was the sound of the cocking of a gun. "Don't move!"

Ishmael sent him one last pleading look before any more men appeared. Nemo refused. He would not risk losing anyone else to this island. A group of men arrived, filling the dilapidated hallway. There were half a dozen of them, each armed with guns of different sizes. Nemo’s hand wandered to his kirpan. He could fight. Ishmael knew he could stop them all if he chose to, but with him in harm's way, he wouldn't risk it. All someone had to do was pull the trigger. There was nothing more either of them could do.

"Hands up!"

Nemo obeyed. There was nothing Ishmael could do. They would take Nemo captive again, and he couldn't stop it. A small struggle ensued as Nemo resisted against his hands being bound together behind his back with a thin rope. They took his kirpan from him and threw it on the ground. Two of the men started to escort him out, but when he saw that they made no effort to bring Ishmael along, Nemo stopped.

"What about that'n?" one of the men asked.  
"Leave him. We don't have the time to dig him out. We have to go, now. "  
Nemo's reluctance to move grew in ferocity but the ample opportunity to fight had long since passed.

With a powerful gust of strength, they forced him out of the door, almost carrying him out. Ishmael called after him, but nothing came of it. The men left with Nemo, leaving Ishmael to suffocate in the dust.


	34. Rescue and Retrieval

**Chapter 34 - Rescue and Retrieval  
** **(Continued)**

“If that kid was telling the truth then that means the cells have moved. I'm sure the plans said they were on the other side of the building," Sawyer said.  
“We'll check where he said first since it’s closer in case they're in trouble with the explosion,” Quatermain answered.  
Sawyer nodded and began to lead the way.

He'd studied the scraps of plans that they had and it had given him a good indication of where to go. Quatermain was more than willing to put his trust into him. But if the boy had been right, then he could only hope Nemo and Ishmael were unharmed. The state of the walls around them was worsening as they progressed.

Despite being so prepared, ready for danger at every twist and turn, they came across no guards. No one was trying to stop them or deal with the damage of the blast. He wondered if the rest of the League's role as a distraction was working. But they remained alert. There could be no mistakes or ill-judged assumptions. Quatermain knew Sawyer was well aware of that fact. He was keeping his eyes wide open this time around.

Getting to the cells was easy, given the lack of walls left standing strong to prevent their entry. Sawyer and Quatermain picked their way into the hallway, not letting the great gorges in the stone beneath them escape their notice. They kept their guns at the ready, unsure of what to expect. They both covered their noses and mouths with their bandanas to keep most of the dust out.

“This place is a mess,” Sawyer murmured in between gentle coughs.  
“Let's hope they're still here-”

The sound of coughing caught Quatermain's attention. Sawyer heard it too and gestured in the direction of its origin. Quatermain gestured for him to hang back and make sure no one appeared.

Keeping his gun at the ready, Quatermain went closer to investigate. He found Ishmael lying pinned amongst the rocks and rubble. Ishmael looked up and jumped. His red irritated eyes grew wide. “Mr Quatermain! H.How are you...”

Quatermain crouched down beside him, leaving his rifle on the floor and slipping the bandana off for a moment. “Not important, Ishmael. Are you alright?”  
More coughing interrupted him but he nodded. “You need to get Nemo. They took him again!”  
“They won't be getting far. Let's get you out first.”

Quatermain called out for Sawyer before replacing the bandana. He appeared and at once understood what was needed of him. Together they began to dig Ishmael out of the mess, freeing his shoulders, then his arms and chest. Soon the load above him was light enough for him to claw his way out of. Quatermain helped him to his feet and steadied him as he took deep breaths. He held his hip in pain, gritting his teeth. He moved his shirt up to inspect it: the skin already showing a large tender bruise deepening in colour.

“You sure you're alright?” Sawyer asked again, picking up Nemo's sword back up from the floor. He saw his kirpan amongst the rubble and picked that up too.  
“I can hold for now. We need to find Nemo,” Ishmael said.  
“How many was there that took him?” Quatermain asked.  
“Six? Seven? I didn't see clearly. But he might already be on the Albatross-”

Quatermain raised a hand. “Makes no difference. Skinner and Mina are grounding her.”

Ishmael sighed in relief but his ears perked up hearing groaning. It was Nyctalope's friends.  
“The others are waking up, we should leave. Here, I can carry that in case you need to shoot,” Ishmael said, gesturing to the kirpan. Sawyer handed it to him since it had no sheath and his hands were full. They then slipped away unnoticed.

Ishmael led the way, almost as if his loyalty drew him in the right direction. The three went to the middle of the fortress finally halting when they heard arguing.

“I'm telling you to go and lock him on the Albatross,” one demanded.  
“Idiot, they'll find him. The League are already swarming around the ship. I'd take him to the back of the Island and find a basement or even a boat and put him where they won't think to look. We've enough ground to work with,” the second said.

Sawyer and Quatermain decided to go in for a closer look but Ishmael stayed back for now. His hip and his frequent urges to cough would not benefit the rescue attempt. Sawyer gave Ishmael one of his guns in case of emergency and Sawyer took the kirpan back from him. For now, they needed their element of surprise and Ishmael did not want to ruin that for them.

So Sawyer and Quatermain crept forwards. They soon discovered the floor ahead had completely collapsed, making a staggered ramp to the floor below them. A light came from flickering bulbs on a chandelier-like frame above them. Nemo was sat on the floor not far from it, facing sideways from his rescue party. Quatermain could see him trying to escape his bonds. He kept his movements discreet, trying to use a shard of glass to slice through the strands bit by bit. Doing so meant he had cut himself a few times too. He seemed desperate to escape.

True enough, there were six men close to Nemo. None of them had the sense to stand behind him. They were too busy bickering about what to do with him.

“Try to get his attention,” Quatermain whispered to Sawyer, he gestured for him to hand him the kirpan and Sawyer did.  
Quatermain slipped away, closer to Nemo but out of his line of sight. If he could slip Nemo his kirpan then he'd have more luck in holding his own until they could get down there to help.

Sawyer waved at Nemo and heaved a careful breath, making just enough noise. It worked. Nemo glanced up but looked away almost at once. He kept slicing away at the ropes that held him but the glass was cutting him more than the rope. Once Nemo looked back to him, Sawyer put his hands together in front of him and gestured dropping it. Nemo understood and, although puzzled, let the bloodied piece slip from his hands. Blood trickled down his fingers.

With the men's disagreement moving towards a compromise, Quatermain had to take his chance. He weighed the kirpan in his hand and watched the men. None were facing his direction and they seemed distracted enough. Deeming it the best chance, he let the knife fall quite close to Nemo. Nemo turned to look around for the source of the noise. Quatermain ducked down out of his sight. If Nemo received a shock there was a chance they'd lose their stealth. Nemo's eyes grew wide upon seeing it.

With eager fingers, he shuffled closer and reached for it. Quickly he started hacking away at the bonds. He was almost free when one of the men noticed his arm moving behind him. Quatermain picked up his gun and looked for a target. The chandelier above them looked tempting.

“Hey, what have you got-”

Quatermain fired the shot. And the seventh man had to dive away to avoid being crushed by the falling mass of metal. The lights convulsed and shut off. Nemo took his chance and ran for cover, not quite being able to cut the rope.

Sawyer and Quatermain managed to push the men back to cover with their shooting, giving Nemo some breathing space. Sawyer shouted for Ishmael and he came at once. Ishmael at once limped down towards his captain. The two hid as bullets hailed their way. Ishmael used it as an opportunity to take the kirpan from Nemo and cut him free.

“Stay hidden,” Nemo said, taking the kirpan back from Ishmael. Without another word he left the safety of the rubble, moving to bring down a shooter. Knives were not Nemo’s weapon of choice, but the graceful ferocity was always there.

Nemo knocked the gun away from him, and he stepped in close, driving the blade into the man’s chest. He pulled the knife free again, as another came towards him. He snatched at the gun with one hand and pushed the man away to the side by the back of the elbow with the other. The man lost his grip on the weapon and Nemo finished him with a kick to the head.

"Nemo," Sawyer called down from his vantage point, tossing something down towards him. Nemo caught it with ease. It was his sword. As shots hailed his way, he rushed to cover beside Ishmael, waiting for another opportunity to help the fight. He hurried to put his belt on and feeling the familiar weight by his side was a great comfort. But his services were not needed again. Quatermain and Sawyer's combined firepower was able to deal with the small group.

"It's clear," Quatermain said as silence hit the destroyed room. Sawyer made his way down to the floor to meet Nemo and Ishmael as they rose. Ishmael wobbled on his weakened hip and Nemo's hand shot out to steady him. He sent a look of concern but Ishmael shook his head to dismiss it.

"Good to see you in one piece. Come on, we gotta go. The others are buying us time outside." Sawyer said.  
"Captain," Ishmael said, his voice damp with concern and his face bright with realisation. "The plans, we can't leave them."

Nemo looked him in the face. "You are right. Those documents cannot remain in Robur's possession."  
"You'll have to be quick. Hyde's formula doesn't last forever," Quatermain reminded them from above them.  
"We'll have to go the way we came anyway. There's an automobile outside," Sawyer pointed out. He began to climb up the rubble and stopped halfway to help the others up. Nemo went first, managing to get most of the way up but Sawyer offered him a hand with a smile. They had him back, they had them both back! 

Quatermain watched over them, keeping his eyes on the doorways should more men come inside. Out of the edges of his vision, he saw movement. One of the guards had appeared from behind the rubble close to the League, crawling on all fours. He'd miscounted.

"Ishmael, look out!" he exclaimed, aiming his rifle.

Ishmael turned quickly. The man leapt to his feet and lunged at him with a knife. Quatermain fired at him in mid-air but the knife still grazed Ishmael's side. Ishmael's foot slipped and he fell back. He yelped and his hands shot towards his hip. But the guard was not dead, he moved towards Ishmael again, determined to attack him with his dying moments. Quatermain’s gun was empty, he raced to reload.

Nemo rushed down to Ishmael, sword drawn; a single powerful swing finished the man. As if to be sure, he kicked him away and the guard fell onto his back. He turned his attention to Ishmael, but Sawyer was already helping him up.

"You alright?" Sawyer asked. Ishmael nodded, although his hip pained him greatly. Sawyer kept a steadying hand on his arm. "You got cut?"  
"I.It's just a scratch," he said, moving his shirt to prove how shallow the knife wound was. He was a little surprised to see it was deeper than that, but they had time. Quatermain offered him a handkerchief. He pressed it against the wound and hissed. "Thank you. Whoever he was, he had it in for me."

Quatermain and Nemo nodded. 

"We can’t leave those plans with Robur,” Ishmael repeated.   
“Don’t worry. We won’t,” Sawyer reassured him. “If they’re in the cells, we’ve gotta go that way anyway, but we should get you to the automobile. You can barely walk and I doubt that fall did you any good.”  
Quatermain couldn’t ignore the concern in Nemo’s face. “Lead the way, Nemo. I’ll stay at the back,” Quatermain said.  
Nemo nodded in agreement. Knowing time was of the essence he began to lead the way, hand on his sword. He was not going to be caught out again.

The path was uneven and it made it difficult for Ishmael to walk. Sawyer had given his Winchester rifle to Ishmael as a means of balancing himself a little more. It at least meant Sawyer had both arms free to catch him whenever he stumbled through the rough terrain. Even being occupied as he was, Sawyer couldn't stop thinking about the man who had tried to stab Ishmael. Surely he'd known he couldn't have fought and survived. Maybe he just didn't know when to quit. Maybe it was something darker than that… he didn't know. All he could do now was to help him get through.

“The cells are this way,” Nemo said as he came to a crossroads.  
“The exit is straight ahead,” Quartermain gestured. “Here, Sawyer, I'll take Ishmael the rest of the way. You should go with Nemo and make sure you both get out alright.”  
Carefully Sawyer passed Ishmael onto him. Ishmael returned Sawyer's Winchester with gratitude.  
“We'll meet you at the automobile. Be quick, I don't know how long our distraction is going to last,” Quartermain warned.

Sawyer nodded “Let's go.”  
They took off at a jog, finding the cells to be as they had left them.  
“Where were they, Nemo?”  
“My room, or what remains of it,” Nemo answered, his voice strained as he tried to unbury his desk. Sawyer helped him to drag rocks away, kicking up more dust and making them cough.

“What do you think caused this explosion?”  
“It is hard to say, perhaps the gas pipes, but then, murder has been on someone's mind for some time now on this island.”  
Sawyer didn't quite understand what that meant but he left it, for now, he'd found the desk, collapsed in a heap.

Nemo yanked at a drawer and found the plans to be safe inside. He picked them up carefully with his uncut hand to prevent any blood from getting onto them. Placing them in his pocket, he said. “Let us leave. There is nothing more I want from this foul place.”

“Hey!” a voice exclaimed. Nemo looked up from where he crouched. He stood at once. Sawyer looked behind him to see it was Nyctalope and his friend who had been in Belgium, the one with chestnut coloured hair. Sawyer aimed his Winchester at them before he'd even seen they were unarmed. He was surprised to see Nyctalope was still alive, let alone standing so healthily after he'd shot him in the chest. Nyctalope also seemed to recall who his shooter was. For a moment there was silence, an eerie quiet as Sawyer tried to read what they were thinking. The other two stood still, unsure of what Sawyer was planning. 

Sawyer understood that to escape Nemo and he would probably have to fight but he didn’t want to just shoot them. Neither of the two in front of him were that old - they looked younger than him. His mind betrayed him back to thoughts of himself and Huck. He didn't want to fight, nor did they have the time to. They had to get back for Ishmael.

“You can't leave- not with those,” Nyctalope declared, looking at Nemo’s pocket.  
“Walk away, Nyctalope. This is none of your concern,” Nemo warned, his hand returned to the hilt of his sword. “Champeau, you’d do well to advise your friend against this.”  
“War is my concern,” Nyctalope retorted. “Leave by all means but the plans must stay.”  
“I already shot you once. I don’t think you’d much appreciate me doing it again. Back off, kid. You don't get a say in this,” Sawyer said.

Whatever discussion that was to follow shattered with the sound of crumbling rocks above them. 

“Get back!” Sawyer shouted as rubble fell. Champeau retreated backwards but Nyctalope dived forward, past the wall of tumbling rocks.   
“Leo!” Champeau exclaimed, choking on foul air, stuck on the other side.

Sawyer was too busy looking for Nemo to see Nyctalope had scrambled to his feet. Suddenly he began to fight Sawyer for the gun. Sawyer clung to the weapon with all his might but Nyctalope was strong, really strong. They tumbled to the floor as they struggled. Nyctalope managed to climb on top, pinning him on his back; Sawyer knew he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer.

“Nemo!” Sawyer bellowed, trying to see where he was. He caught a glimpse of him. The bottom his leg was stuck under some of the newly fallen rubble. Was that the one he'd injured on the Nautilus? He pushed at it with all of his strength, and he’d almost freed himself. Sawyer looked back to Nyctalope and increased his efforts. All he had to do was hold on. He couldn’t let go. A little longer was all they needed.

Sawyer wrapped his whole arm around the weapon, clinging to it like a spiteful child, but his grip was slipping. He hoped the weapon didn't break. Nyctalope seemed to know he was running out of time. With an iron grip, he held the gun with one hand and punched Sawyer hard under the ribs. Sawyer felt like it rattled his organs and turned his liver to mush. But he didn't let go, he wouldn’t regardless of how many strikes he took. He heard the grumble of a rolling rock and the hush of a sword as it was drawn from its sheath. 

Nyctalope looked up in alarm to see Nemo free. He didn't have time to react to it. With a gust of strength Nemo kicked him in the right shoulder, throwing him backwards. He hit the wall and bumped his head. The face of immense pain Nemo made escaped Sawyer’s notice. He’d rushed onto his feet and aimed the gun, but he was no more willing to shoot now as before.

Nyctalope groaned as he sat up and reached for a rock, one last desperate attempt to retrieve those plans but he froze. Nemo's sword caressed the great artery in his throat. He slowly fell back, leaning on his arms from behind. He swallowed hard. Nemo could not put his foot flat against the ground. 

“Enough, monsieur. These papers come with me. Your leader has betrayed you. You have no reason to act on his behalf.”  
“I act on my own behalf, Captain,” he hissed. Nemo moved the blade closer, at once ridding him of his resentment.  
From the other side of the wall, they could hear Champeau calling out to Degains and Coqui. Nyctalope looked concerned but didn’t dare move.

Nemo moved his sword away by an inch, “Go and care for your friends, Saint-Clair. I expect they are wounded. I do not wish to harm you. Those papers you try so admirably to protect would bring war. They prevent nothing.”  
He nodded hesitantly, eyeing the sword “Alright… alright.”

Nemo lowered his sword completely. He limped away from him, although he did not look away. “Lead the way, Sawyer.”

He did so and the two hurried off. They did not get far, rocks and debris blocked their path entirely. “Dead end,” Sawyer grumbled. “Nemo, do you know a way around this?” Sawyer turned to look at him. Nemo leant against the wall. He raised his leg from the floor and kept his eyes clamped shut.

“Hey… You alright?” Sawyer asked, going over to the captain.  
“I will be. I just need a moment. It's my leg again-” Nemo suddenly stopped, shaking his head. “Nevermind, It’s not important. There is another way to get to that doorway but it is a longer path.”  
“Looks like we’ve no choice. Here, let me help you. You must have hurt your leg pretty bad.”   
“I will be fine. I can keep up.”  
“I might have worded it as an offer, but there wasn’t actually an option of declining. Last time you said you’d be fine you got yourself hip-deep in trouble,” Sawyer smirked. He took Nemo’s arm and slipped it over his head. 

“Thank you, Mr Sawyer. For risking so much to find Ishmael and I. Last time there was no such hope to comfort us.”  
“Hey, you’re in the League now. There was no way we were going to leave you out here, not now, not ever. Come on, let’s get you home.”

Together they hurried to get back to Ishmael and their automobile. They could only hope they were not too late.

* * *

**(*Meanwhile*)**

Now the danger of the League had passed, Nyctalope rushed to move the wall of rubble away, his strength proving useful in making a gap large enough for him to squeeze through.

“Leo, thank God you’re alright,” Champeau exclaimed.  
“Are you hurt?”  
“No. Where are Jean and Rene? Have they run off? I couldn’t see them in their cell.”  
“I. I haven’t seen them.” He turned to look at their cell, half-filled with rubble. “Jean! Rene! Are you here?”

They froze as they heard a groan and a feeble voice. It came from the far corner of their room.

Nyctalope and Champeau looked at each other in horror. They moved closer, straining to see through the debris, hoping for an indication of where to start digging. For a moment they couldn’t see them amongst all the dirt.

“There, at the back. Jean! Jean, wake up!” Champeau shouted, seeing he was unconscious. The explosion had caused a great crack to emerge in the wall. It was enough for Nyctalope and Champeau to squeeze through one at a time.  
They began to grab at the rubble unhesitatingly, launching it away from their friend.  
“Where's Rene?” Nyctalope cried, looking around.  
“Wait, is he- yes! Chief, he's here, he's under Jean.”

With Nyctalope's help, Champeau was quickly able to unbury them. Chapeau waited before he moved him, taking his time in checking it was safe to move him if he'd hurt his back… it felt like forever until Champeau gave the all-clear to carefully drag Jean to a clearer spot. Champeau treated his injuries as best he could. It looked as though Degains had used himself as a shield to protect Rene from the debris. Jean was in a bad way, but Nyctalope did not know what exact injuries he had. Blood covered most of his face. Rene was only just starting to come around and was the one who was responsible for the noise. He looked dazed but saved from any further injuries.

Nyctalope worked on trying to reassure him and helped where he needed to. He sat him up and looked at the bump on his head while Champeau helped Jean. Rene was able to clarify that Jean had pushed him to the floor and leaned over him on all fours to save him, at the expense of injuring himself.

“Leo, I need my bag,” Champeau said, his voice was urgent. “It was in Robur’s room.”  
Nyctalope understood. He got to his feet, sure that Rene would be fine. He took off as quickly as he could, ignoring the growing burn of his own wounds, racing against time to save his friend.


	35. Grounded

**Chapter 35 - Grounded** **  
** **_The Albatross_ ** **  
** **(Continued)**

Skinner hurried to search the ship to make sure Nemo and Ishmael were not on board. He searched every room, every hallway, every space on that ghoulish flying vessel, he even found their rooms, but they weren’t there. His tasks weren't over yet. He had a ship to sink.

The engine room itself was huge, although not as big as the Nautilus’. The giant machines emitted a never ending “brr” sound which echoed through the air. It was much louder now he was up close. The thief could feel himself sweating due to the heat coming from the machines.

Cracking his knuckles he approached one of the engines and began to undo nuts and bolts. It was a very slow process- and painful due to the heat emitting from the metal. Skinner's eyes fell upon a crate. One of the planks from the lid was loose and so he used that to hit any exposed wires and pipes.

“Hmm, that's attached to that, so if that goes…” He broke another pipe and that fed into the engines. The Albatross began to lose altitude and his stomach lurched. Skinner staggered and had to steady himself. “That'll do,” he remarked.

“I should have known it was you!” a voice shouted. Skinner looked up to see Zenith running towards him.   
“Oops,” he muttered. Skinner dropped the wood he had collected and ran. Skinner hid behind one of the machines. He looked down only to see he was filthy- there went his stealth. He looked around to see if he could clean up somehow. No ideas sprang to mind. It didn't matter, Zenith was onto him now. He approached him with a wrench in hand.

“Are you trying to get us all killed?!” Zenith exclaimed.  
“You lot started it,” Skinner remarked, ducking as Zenith swung for him.  
Skinner moved so that he was ready for his next swing. Skinner ducked again and this time Zenith hit one of the engines, putting a nice dent into the metal. The ship seemed to fall even faster.  
“You're doing a good job yourself by the looks of it,” Skinner jibed.

Skinner managed to push him hard, which sent Zenith staggering back with a grunt. Without a second’s delay, Skinner retreated back upstairs, grabbing his wooden plank. He needed to find Mina. It was time for them to leave. His work was done.

When he made it to the top, Skinner closed the door. He wedged the plank into the handle, keeping him inside for the time being. When he turned he could see a man at the helm. It had to be Robur struggling to control his falling ship. Skinner looked for Mina but for a moment could see no sign. Whilst he looked around he felt a sudden blow on his shoulder blade. With a yelp, he turned around sharply. He found it was a man with beady pig eyes and a scrunched up face. He held a knife.

Skinner’s hand went straight to his shoulder and he couldn't help but swear at the pain. He could feel the blood oozing down his back. It wasn't heavy, but he didn't want to try his luck again. They had to go.

The man swung for him again and Skinner jumped back. He shouted for Mina, knowing fine well that unarmed as he was, he didn't stand much of a chance. He could see her now, fighting one of the men but she finished him with her sharp and powerful teeth. With a violent burst of energy, she launched herself into the air safe from any others.

Skinner struggled to avoid the man who was trying to slash at him again with the knife. Skinner used anything he could get his hands on as a weapon but he was running out of things to throw at him and use to block the knife. Skinner’s arms were marked several times throughout the brief encounter and shouted ‘ow’ every time he was marked. He called for her again.

Mina’s darting eyes fell upon whom she searched for. She could only see the floating oil that covered his body but even from here the scent of his blood was overpowering to her heightened senses. She saw him struggle to avoid the man who was so intent on killing him.

Without a nervous movement, without so much as a noise she swooped down towards the man attacking Skinner. Skinner jumped back out the way as Mina landed on her new opponent with bared teeth. She tore into his throat and drank some of its contents. With his last struggling few moments of life, the man managed to actually stab her in the chest. She threw the man away in repulsion, bringing her hands to her breast.

“Mina!” Skinner exclaimed. The man was dead but Mina also stumbled backwards gasping for air in shock. She tripped over and landed on the ground before Skinner could get to her. Skinner crouched down beside her, trying to see if he could help. He held her in his arms, desperately trying to find some life in her body.

He was too late. She was gone.

“No! No, no, no, Mina! Get up, get up! You can't be...” he cried. He stared at her pale face, her half closed eyes and slightly parted bloodied lips. As he held her he moved a stray hair away from her face. He stared as hard as he could, trying to see movement, some sort of sign she was alive.   
“Mina?” he gulped. Nothing... He kept calling for her, getting louder, feeling more and more helpless as grief and shock began to chew at his heart.

_ Dead?... Dead?! _

He kept repeating the same word to himself. It was his fault, he was too busy protecting himself to think about her vulnerability. The vulnerability that she kept so well hidden which had cost her her life. Mina was dead. How was he meant to explain this to the rest of the League? They'd be heartbroken. Skinner had only just managed to help pull Sawyer back together. This would destroy him.

Skinner was so smothered in his own thoughts that he forgot the danger he was in. The only thing that brought him out of his trance-like shock was when the Albatross plunged to the ground with an almighty crash. Skinner held on to Mina as they were thrown to the side at the impact. He ended up biting his tongue, making him taste blood. It was this that made him snap to a decision.

Glancing up, the infuriated thief saw Robur staring at him from the helm. There was a small cut above his eyebrow from the collision. He knew he'd been spotted. He made to leave the ship.

“Hey!” Skinner shouted. He lay Mina's body down gently. “Get back here!” He went after him, but a man came towards him. He looked like another henchman- like those he faced in Belgium. Skinner had to keep his distance. The man swung a punch at Skinner at once, forcing him to step back, letting Robur slip away unchallenged. Skinner retreated.

As the man drew closer, Skinner kept backing up. There was something about this man he didn’t like. Instinct told him this man didn’t need a weapon to be dangerous. Skinner made it back to Mina’s lifeless body, and then past it. The man looked at her, or as Skinner soon realised, the knife in her chest. He reached down to take it.

“Get off her!” Skinner shouted, pushing him away from her, but he already had the knife in hand, dripping with blood. Skinner felt sick at the sight of it. Mina’s blood.

He couldn't think of her as the man came at him, looking comfortable with the situation. Skinner’s body hissed in pain at the gashes he already had. He couldn’t take many more of those and stay on his feet. The sickness a lack of blood brought was beginning to creep upon him. He kept backing up, throwing glances to the side for a weapon.

The man lunged at him with the knife, Skinner jumped back but tripped over the body of the man that had killed Mina. He fell on his back and the gap was closed quickly, the man’s blade raised high above him, ready to bring it down.

Suddenly, the man found himself being dragged backwards by the arm which carried the bloodied weapon. It was Mina! She bit him, being sure to hold on tight to his arm. Satisfied, she threw him off the side of the ship. Skinner felt his jaw drop and he forgot how to use his lungs. She offered her hand to him to help him up from the floor. The other hand wiped away the blood from her face.

He didn’t take up her offer. He was too busy staring. “Mina. You're - You're alive!” he managed. He couldn’t stop himself shaking - he hoped Mina couldn’t see it. Skinner was glad he was invisible, otherwise, Mina would have also seen his watery grin and his immense relief. She was alive! He hadn’t lost her.

She crouched down beside him, understanding his shock. “I am not so easily killed,” she said with a softness in her voice. “Skinner, we must regroup with the others. You need to go back to the automobile. Hyde needs our help. You're hurt and badly at that,” she explained, resting her hand on his arm. She helped him up with great care, being careful not to catch his wounds.

Skinner closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm. She was alright, he didn’t need to worry. He had to pull himself together and he reminded himself that Nemo and Ishmael were their priorities. “Right, let’s get out of here,” he said with the steadiest voice he could find. It was enough for Mina not to suspect anything at least.

Mina transformed with a snarl. She wrapped her arms around Skinner’s chest before taking off. She didn't want to further hurt him. The new scent of his blood was almost too much for her to resist. She forced herself to completely ignore the thief. The need for blood seemed to boil in her throat, begging her to go in for the kill. She forced herself not to- she had to. Instead, she found that there were traces of blood on her lips and contented herself with that.

Skinner was dropped off at Pavan’s automobile, where the acting captain took to bandaging the biggest of his wounds. This time when Skinner had been in the air he didn't voice his fear. He was in too much shock to acknowledge it. He couldn't believe what had happened on the Albatross. Skinner desperately tried to forget about it. He grumbled and voiced his pain as Pavan worked but kept his eye out for Nemo and the others. He wanted to help, but now there was little he could do. He had played his part, now it was up to the rest of the League.

* * *

**(*Meanwhile*)**

Robur's forces assembled fast. Hyde could barely keep up with them. They were trying to shoot him and so he had to hide for the most part until Mina finally came to help. He could see the blood and the little hole in her clothes, which indicated she had been stabbed though it had healed. That annoyed him enough to fight and not care about bullets. The two worked in unison. They kept the gunmen well away from the automobile and formed an excellent distraction whilst Sawyer and Quatermain got to work on the other side of the fortress. So far, the unexpected explosion was working to their advantage.

Hyde had spotted Robur leaving the Albatross and was keen to follow him. He was eager to make him pay.  
_ Remember our plan, Edward. Robur belongs to Nemo, not us,  _ Jekyll reminded him  
_ Nemo isn't here,  _ Hyde retorted, having made up his mind. Against Jekyll’s best efforts of dissuasion, Hyde went in pursuit of Robur before he could disappear into the fortress. Hyde had sworn revenge and fully intended to carry it out.

A stinging pain caught his attention. He turned to see Zenith launching rocks at him to gain his attention. With a roar of frustration, Hyde went after him instead. Jekyll had a point. Robur belonged to Nemo, not him. Zenith on the other hand… Zenith's eyes seemed to pop out of his head as he saw the massive creature running towards him with tremendous energy. The thief took off at a sprint and headed into the fortress. 

Hyde wanted blood, and he didn't care who it belonged to.


	36. Protection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of whump in this one including more serious child whump again, just so you know.

**Chapter 36 - Protection** **  
** **(Continued)**

Nemo couldn't help but feel disappointed in himself. Despite his utmost best attempts to forget Island X, he could still remember it with clarity. He could recall his way around with relative ease, though some of the layouts had changed. Every pathway was just like last time he left here: destroyed and damaged. It took a great deal of time, pain, and effort to climb over it all.

Sawyer and Nemo were almost out of the building when they heard urgent footsteps racing towards them. They rushed to take cover by ducking near the rubble, though they kept near the wall so they weren't in the way. Nemo recognised the passerby as Zenith. He looked to be greatly out of wind. It soon became clear as to why: Hyde was after him. Zenith had already run off and seemed to have hidden away to catch his breath.

Nemo and Sawyer made themselves known to stop Hyde's rampage. It was time for them to leave now. If Hyde ran off they'd have longer to wait and a greater risk of something happening.

Hyde stopped abruptly. “Nemo,” he greeted with deep and fast-paced breaths.

“Hyde, it’s good to see you but we must leave. Please, come with us,” Nemo said. With a long look in Zenith's direction, Hyde nodded as Sawyer and Nemo continued down the hall. He’d had some thrills today at least. Sawyer found himself having to support the captain more and more as they travelled. Walking on it wasn't helping him, especially on uneven ground. 

Hyde tried to clear the path for them to make it easier. They continued to rush towards the exit of the building, but a group of gunmen forced them to turn a corner whilst Sawyer shot them down. The forces were beginning to organise themselves- the League had to go; they were running out of time.

Nemo leaned against the wall, trying to ready himself for moving again as the fighting drew to an end. However, amongst the gunshots, he sensed something was beside him. He looked down the hallway, and he was surprised at what he saw.

“Lupin?!” he whispered.   


He sent a glance towards Sawyer before he traced his way across the rubble for only a few feet, being sure to not lose the plans he carried or hurt his leg. 

Nemo crouched down beside him, doing his best to ignore his own pain. Lupin was lying face down, buried in the rubble and unconscious. The captain gently moved the thief’s head to a more natural position to make him more comfortable before beginning to unbury him. Lupin seemed to open his eyes a touch, but they closed again. The gunshots came to an end but after a second Sawyer shouted: “Nemo, where are you?”

“Here, Sawyer. Hurry.”

Sawyer came over but was clearly dissatisfied with what he found. Hyde was also unimpressed when he made it over to them.  
“You want me to put him out of his misery?” Hyde asked coldly.  
“No! He is the only reason I am still alive. He needs our help. Please, you must trust me. Help me to free him,” Nemo explained, clawing at the rubble to move it.

Sawyer sighed but he set about helping Nemo. Hyde moved the biggest pieces and then waited. He kept a lookout as the two men were able to drag Lupin out and turn him around onto his back. The two men were surprised at the sight of him.

Lupin’s face was badly marked and his nose was bleeding. He seemed to have been able to wrap his jacket around himself before he fell unconscious. His wrist looked to be swelling, but that seemed to be all. They didn’t have time to check him over. Lupin’s condition seemed to give Sawyer the extra prompt to help him.  He needed medical attention, that was for sure. Sawyer couldn't just leave him, not when Nemo seemed to want to save him so much.  
“Hyde, can you carry him for me?” Sawyer asked.

With a grumble, Hyde picked the unconscious man up and draped him on his shoulder. 

Without any further delay, they began to head out to find the automobile. Nemo’s limp was becoming more and more aggressive but he would not stop. The captain just held onto Sawyer's shoulder tighter, though he didn't seem to realise it. They could see Quatermain was already in the automobile with Ishmael.

Sawyer could feel Nemo trying to go faster, but he made sure he didn’t overdo it. Hyde seemed to be busy talking to Jekyll as they left at such a hastened pace. He guessed it was about their unexpected… guest? Prisoner? Sawyer didn't know what to call him, or what they were going to do with him.

As they made their way out of the building thanks to Nemo's rough directions, they discovered the air to be filled with distant gunshots. There was no doubt where Mina was still fighting. Jekyll was furious at Hyde for leaving her to fight alone as he only worried about his own revenge, but Jekyll’s scolding fell onto deaf ears. Skinner and Pavan were there and although they wouldn’t be able to help much, Hyde was not concerned. He was sure Mina would be fine.

Hyde began to feel himself weakening. Soon Jekyll would be back. At least once the doctor returned he could look after Ishmael. Hyde cared not for the French thief. He could lie in a hole and rot for all he was concerned. He didn’t know what Nemo wanted with him in the first place. Sadly he doubted he was just going to keep him and torture or kill him.

They were outside and almost at the automobile when the League came across a young boy. Sawyer recognised him as the boy from earlier who had ran off. Why was he back? Whatever the reason, as soon as he saw the League, he froze. His blond hair was plastered to his face due to the rain. He wore no jacket and looked be freezing in the bitter weather. 

This time there were no weapons for him, but he didn’t even search. He just stood in shock, primarily looking at Hyde. Hyde stared back. The boy swallowed hard, taking the slightest of steps backwards. He didn't know if he should run or not. 

Hyde heard a slight movement and turned around. It was Zenith, armed this time with a small gun and a cane. He must have doubled back when Hyde had stopped chasing him.

“Armand, run! Don't look back!” Zenith shouted as he began to make an excellent distraction for the boy. He kicked over some of the crates which knocked the back of Sawyer's legs. He almost fell over had Nemo not been holding onto him. Zenith began to shoot at the League though the shots weren’t able to hit their mark. Sawyer and Nemo ducked into cover. Quatermain instinctively used himself as a shield to protect Ishmael. The boy disappeared off into the foul weather.

Hyde ran at Zenith, fist raised above his head. Zenith fired at him but nothing happened. He had run out of bullets. It was then he noticed who was hanging limp on Hyde’s shoulder. “Lupin!” He discarded his gun and drew the sword from his cane. As Hyde swung for him, he jumped to the side, but Hyde was ready for it. He reached his arm out and caught him hard on the torso. Zenith was thrown a little way back, but he did not let go of his sword.

"Don't shoot," he heard Nemo order.

Hyde moved to advance, but pain struck him. He was reverting back into Jekyll. Lupin slipped from his shoulder and fell feet first to the floor.  
“Lupin,  _ Levez! _ ” Zenith exclaimed. Whilst Hyde struggled with his almost fit-like state, Zenith scrambled towards Lupin. He could not leave him here with the League, with Nemo. 

Before he was close enough to grab him, Nemo stepped in between the two men, his own sword drawn. His limp didn't escape Zenith's notice.  
“Keep away from him, Nemo,” Zenith warned.  
“That will not be possible, Monsieur.”

Zenith’s eyes darted around the clearing. Quatermain eyed up his gun which was beside him. He was busy steadying Jekyll. Jekyll was almost back now, but he would be too exhausted to fight. That left Sawyer and he stood with his gun at the ready, but he’d heard the order Nemo had given.

Zenith dived forward. From his angle Nemo was in the line of fire, so as long as he was careful, he could not be attacked by more than one person at a time and Nemo's order gave him some reassurance. Nemo deflected his strike with ease, but Zenith tried again, pushing harder with every blow. Nemo's skill did not falter but his leg did. Zenith forced him to move, positioned each advance to edge him backwards. Each step Nemo took pained him, but he was much too experienced to let it control him. 

Sawyer was circling around, trying to find a shot. He seemed to know Nemo would not be able to hold his own for long at this rate. Jekyll had recovered somewhat from his transformation and began to drag Lupin towards the automobile. Zenith had to act now if he was to save Lupin. 

He and Nemo clashed swords, and it was down to strength to see who would prevail. But Nemo knew where his strengths were. He moved his sword, rotating it almost in a full circle. His hand came close to Zenith's hand and the force Nemo used yanked the blade out of his hand. Zenith was unarmed, but he did not stop. He kicked Nemo hard in his frontmost leg. This time it buckled, and Nemo shouted. He had to put a hand on the ground to steady himself.

Zenith punched at his head, but Nemo dropped his sword and managed to catch Zenith’s arm with both hands. He stood quickly, keeping hold of Zenith's wrist with his left hand and punched back, striking Zenith in the liver with his right. He only just avoided Zenith's punch. Zenith struggled not to double over in pain and before he could even begin to recover, Nemo pulled down on his arm to lower his head and a well-aimed elbow to the back of the head disorientated him. Nemo kicked the back of his knees hard and drove him to the floor. 

Nemo grabbed his sword and stepped back, keeping his blade pointing at Zenith’s throat before he could get to his feet. Sawyer's gun was also trained upon him, he knew there was no way to continue this, but at least Armand was safe.

“What did you do to Lupin?” Zenith growled, looking dizzy. Nemo did not answer. “You leave him alone, Nemo! Lupin has shown you nothing but consideration all this time.”

Nemo did not falter even slightly, the blade moved an inch closer to his neck. “Give Robur this message: Arsène Lupin is my prisoner. He shall be looked after and when I see fit he will be released, unharmed, I swear to you. But I also promise you this,” Nemo moved the blade towards the pounding artery in Zenith’s throat, drawing a few weak droplets of blood. Zenith refused to wince or react. “If you follow the Nautilus I will not hesitate to kill him, and I  _ will _ know if you pursue me.”

Nemo could tell by Zenith’s posture he was ready to resume the fight, ready to spring up. This he could not allow. With a gust of strength, he kneed him in the head. Zenith crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Nemo sheathed his sword and hissed in pain, keeping most of the pressure off his ankle.

Sawyer lowered his gun and moved his soggy hair out of his face. The rain stung and aggravated him. The wind sent the droplets of water flying at him like little bullets. His fingers and face were numb due to the cold. He hurried over to Nemo to help him back to the automobile.

“So that’s why you didn’t want me to fight?” Sawyer guessed.   
Nemo nodded. “Zenith does not deserve death for protecting others. But we must go, we are running out of time.”  
“You’re right, Get in, there’s a coat for you. You too, Jekyll, I’ll get Lupin,” Sawyer said.

Nemo did as Sawyer asked. His focus settled on Ishmael and Quatermain.

“Are you alright?” Quatermain asked.   
“I… yes , but I did not expect for you...”   
“I know; you’re not the only one,” Quatermain answered, though his attention remained on Ishmael. The discussion of his revival would have to wait.

Jekyll’s clothes were shredded and damaged but they came prepared and brought a spare shirt and few coats with them. Quatermain had already put a coat on after he had given Ishmael his. Lupin didn’t seem to be hurt further due to the untimely transformation that caused him to slip from Hyde’s shoulder. Jekyll climbed into the automobile and with Sawyer's help lifted the thief inside. Jekyll covered Lupin with his own coat to keep some of the weather off him. First and foremost, Jekyll was a doctor, and he had to look after anyone who was injured. Who they were and his own needs were irrelevant.

“Listen,” Nemo muttered. What they found worried them. The sound of gunfire had diminished. The only sound that hung in the air was the cold whistle of the wind. Why had it stopped? Was Mina in trouble?  
“We’d better get a move on,” Quatermain advised.

Sawyer got in the driver’s seat and set off. It was a squeeze in the back with the extra person but they managed more or less. Jekyll couldn't quite sit down in the seat so he crouched on the floor. He shivered as the speed of the automobile made the heavy rain even worse but he could only tolerate it. Lupin seemed stable and so Jekyll could only keep his head tilted down and try to stop the bleeding in his nose.

Ishmael still worked to drive the dust out of his lungs. The hellish nightmare he had relieved was finally coming to a close. He just seemed to want to rest, 

All they had to do now was to meet up with Mina and the others. They were so close to getting back safely. Sawyer just hoped that the worst was over.

* * *

**(*A Few Minutes Later*)**

Zenith awoke, lying in the rain with a pounding head. His senses all seemed blurred and indistinct. Sitting up slowly, he rubbed the side of his head with a groan. His stinging eyes closed, waiting for his balance to return. He froze upon hearing someone weakly saying his name. 

“Lupin?” he murmured. When he looked around he was not there. Instead, he found Armand to be curled up in a ball near to him. He showed no signs of wanting to get up. He was fighting back tears, groaning and whimpering, begging the thief for help. 

He snapped to attention. He dragged himself up on all fours and leaned over him. A wave of dizziness almost made him topple over but he tried to ignore it. He furrowed his brow in concern as he looked down. The rainwater surrounding the boy was crimson red. The blood was coming from his leg- from his left thigh.

Armand was shaking with his eyes closed tight.  
“Armand, what happened? I thought you'd run off,” Zenith exclaimed. He turned the young boy over and gathered him up in his arms. Armand buried his face against his chest as he struggled with the pain and fear. His breathing was shallow and shuddery.  
“I. I don't know. I came to find you-” Armand stopped, hissing in pain as Zenith ripped the material of Armand’s trouser leg apart. It was enough to reveal a bullet wound. Armand clamped his hands on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding himself. Zenith put his hand on top to help.

Armand began to squirm around, struggling not to sob. Zenith held on tighter to him.

“Cry if you need to, dear boy. Scream, yell and curse. Do whatever it is you need to, just keep still for me,” Zenith said softly. “You're going to be fine. I promise you, but you need to calm down. Try and take deep breaths for me.”  
“I. I don't think I can do this. Before I couldn't really feel it, but now,” a whimper cut him off and he clenched his jaw. “Please- it. it hurts...” Zenith could feel him trembling in his arms.

Zenith knew he was going to have to change his tactics, simple instructions weren’t going to help. He was too frightened. “Can you remember what I told you a few days ago? Channel out your fear-”   
“Make it motivation,” Armand winced, forcing air into his lungs.  
“Exactly. You’ve been shot, and I know you’re scared but the best thing you can do to help yourself is focusing on keeping your head. All I need you to do is stay calm and still. Leave the rest up to me. I’m going to wrap up that leg and carry you inside. Don't worry, I'll be gentle. Deep breaths now.”

Zenith gently lay him down on his back, being sure to not hurt his leg. He fumbled about for a handkerchief and lay it flat against the wound. Armand gasped, but Zenith guided his hands to the wound and he knew to hold it in place. Zenith rubbed his neck as he thought for something he could use to tie it down with. That was when he remembered- his bow tie. He unfastened it, making it a long strip of material.

“You’re doing well, Armand. Can you raise your leg a bit for me? That’s it, you’re going to be fine. Steady your breathing a bit more, nice and slow.”

With the wound covered somewhat, Zenith removed his soaked blazer and used it to cover his shoulders. He hoped it would serve as some kind of comfort for his growing shock. He was losing a lot of blood. Zenith got to his feet and picked Armand up. He yelped as his thigh pressed against Zenith's side.  
“Apologies, dear boy, but it has to be done. That's the worst of it is over. Don’t worry, we’re going to go and find you some help.”  
“Alright. I. I want my father.” he whimpered, wrapping one of his arms around Zenith’s neck. The other pressed onto the wound as much as he could bring himself to.  
“I know, just hold on. Focus on your breathing.”

“Zenith!” Fantômas called from afar. The thief turned to see him running towards him. He stopped and looked at the boy he carried. He seemed greatly concerned, though his usual mask made it hard to see.   
“What happened?” he demanded.   
“I don’t know. I need you to go and find Robur and a doctor. I don’t think the explosion reached my room so I’ll take him there for now. Hurry now,” Zenith instructed.

With extreme vigour, Zenith left Fantômas and hurried inside the fortress. It was not easy, but he managed to find a route with very little debris. Armand seemed to be getting heavier with every step he took. After climbing plenty of stairs, the thief was exhausted and dizzy, but he couldn’t stop. Not when Armand depended on him. He ground his teeth together until he finally made it to his room. As Zenith suspected his room was untouched, though there was a little more dust hovering in the air.

Zenith wanted to collapse onto the bed himself, but he managed to gently lay Armand down. He had dozed off during the journey and he showed little sign of waking soon. Battling past his groggy nausea, Zenith did what he could while he waited for a doctor. He left the temporary bandage on but covered it with a folded blanket to stop the bleeding that had soaked through. After that he could only sit and wait, applying steady pressure to his leg. They needed Fantômas to hurry. Armand needed him.


	37. The Price of Freedom

**Chapter 37 - The Price of Freedom** **  
** **(Continued)**

The League made it to the other side of the fortress in good time. During the journey, the gunfire had started again, heavier than before. Quatermain and Jekyll switched places, allowing for Quatermain to join the gunfight whilst Sawyer kept driving closer. Jekyll was able to get Lupin and Ishmael to slouch down to keep them safe from any shrapnel or stray bullets. 

The gunmen seemed to be in every crack and crevices of the fortress though most were on the wall, shooting down on the League. A few were brave enough to move closer but Mina brought them down. It seemed to be never-ending. For every man Mina finished, another would take his place.

Mina was fighting with more ferocity than ever. At first, none of the League understood why. Then they saw Nemo's face drop. The driver door to the other automobile was open. Around the other side Skinner, wrapped up bandages, was trying to help Pavan. Skinner was pressing bandages on his chest. It wasn't a good sign. Nemo was out of their automobile before it fully stopped.

Skinner saw the captain fast approaching them, though he had a vicious limp. Skinner didn't know how Nemo didn't end up getting himself shot as he made his way over to Pavan, though he seemed to have several close calls along the way.  
“Nemo, are you trying to get yourself killed?!” Skinner couldn't help but exclaim.  


Nemo crouched down beside Pavan. He stared wide-eyed at him, hardly able to process what he saw. He didn't want to. Nemo knew in his gut that he wouldn't make it. He was too weakened, his eyes too clouded, and the wound too overwhelming.

He was going to lose him. Pavan was going to die and Nemo was powerless to stop it. Just like his mother and father. Just like his wife and daughter. Just like Ishmael's wife. He was going to lose more family to this hellish island. The all too familiar feeling seemed to tear Nemo's chest in two. He had already lost so many crewmen. He couldn't do this again.

Jekyll as he dashed over to the wounded man and the grimace on his face confirmed Nemo’s fears. Quatermain tried to stop Ishmael leaving the automobile but he clambered out, limping over to them.

“Captain? I.Ishmael?” Pavan murmured. He could barely keep his eyes open as he struggled to breathe. Nemo expected that the bullet had hit his lung. He didn't have long.  
“Steady, Pavan. We're here,” Nemo answered. Skinner moved out of the way to allow them to speak to him and for Jekyll to try to save him.

_ It's too late, Jekyll. I can feel him slipping,  _ Hyde explained.  
_ Shut up. There might still be a chance,  _ Jekyll argued, though he could feel the growing doubt lingering in the back of his mind. The doctor couldn't bring himself to admit defeat, not when it was someone Nemo held dear.

Pavan began to cough, and he spat blood, lots of it. Nemo placed his hand under Pavan’s ear and jaw to support his head. It seemed to help as Pavan struggled to breathe. Nemo looked Pavan in the eyes and managed to put on his mask of bravery- of strength. He played his part well.

“You're… alright?” Pavan continued weakly.  
“Fine. Both of us are fine,” Nemo partially lied. He didn't want to worry him. He deserved whatever peace he could be left with.

Pavan was weakening and he knew it. Using the last of his strength he raised his hand. Nemo took it with his other and held it tight, the captain could feel him trembling. Ishmael could only put a hand on his arm and squeeze it reassuringly.

Pavan coughed again. “I can’t… I’m sorry.”   
Nemo struggled to find words. “I know… It’s alright, Pavan.”  
“It's been… an honour,” Pavan smiled in between rattling gulps of air. Nemo swallowed hard as he saw a lone tear escape Pavan’s eye, though more threatened to spill. Nemo could see he was afraid; that he was in pain. He heard Ishmael clear his throat behind him as he too struggled. 

“The honour is ours,  _ my friend _ … Thank you,” Nemo managed, trying to keep a brave face but he knew he was cracking. He didn't want to have to say goodbye; he didn't want Pavan to go. Nemo tried to brace himself for what was to follow but he couldn't. He couldn't prepare himself for the death of such a dear friend.  
Pavan smiled at Ishmael, no words needed to be said between them, and then he turned his head to the side, looking far into the distance where the Nautilus waited for her master’s return. “She’s beautiful...” With an agonised wince and a feeble shudder, Pavan suddenly faded. His head fell away from Nemo's hand and he no longer held onto him.

He was dead. 

Heart pounding, chest heaving, Nemo steadied himself long enough to gently release Pavan’s hand and close his eyes for him. He was shaking. Skinner seemed to know what to expect before the others. Nemo looked for a gun and found one on the floor near Pavan's body. He snatched it from the ground and began to shoot at their enemies. His eyes were wide and wild and he snarled as he emptied the gun, each bullet managed to hit a mark.

Pavan had died to get him back, to rescue him from the same monster who had killed his family. He lost himself to the demand for blood. He wanted to give what was due to every inhabitant on that Island! Skinner and Ishmael grabbed him and dragged him down out of range. Skinner put his hand on Nemo's shoulder and crouched down beside him, forcing him to look at him. He had to shake Nemo out of it.

“We need to get out of here, Nemo. There's nothing we can do,” Skinner shouted above the gunfire and yells from the men who came into Mina’s path. Nemo tried to get back up to keep fighting.

Ishmael kept him down this time, with more force. “Captain, Skinner is right. I’m sorry but we must leave. There is nothing we can do for Pavan. The least we can do is get those plans as far away from Robur as possible,” he said. Mentioning their purpose was enough to get him to understand, but he still looked to be disturbed by what was happening around him.

“I will not leave without him,” Nemo demanded more than stated.

Skinner looked down at Pavan’s lifeless body and back to Nemo. “We won't. I'll get him. You two just get inside the automobile and wait for us. One of you will have to drive this thing.” Skinner wasn't used to giving orders he did what he had to. He hoped Mina would leave the fight without trouble. She seemed to have realised that Sawyer and the others had returned, but she wasn't willing to leave yet.

Ishmael nodded to Nemo. "I will," Nemo volunteered.

Jekyll had to help Skinner lift Pavan back into the back of the roofed automobile. Nemo climbed in the driver's seat, though he kept looking back to his fallen friend as though he could somehow protect him.

“Mina, we gotta go!” Sawyer shouted, giving up on his shooting. He sat back down in his own seat, revving the automobile’s engine. The number of gunmen seemed to be growing. Mina turned to look at Sawyer, but she finished the victim she held aloft in her arms, carving her teeth into his neck. It was only then, dropping the body with a snarl to the survivors, she and her bats flew back to the League.

As Mina returned, Jekyll helped Ishmael hurry back to the roofless automobile. They ducked down as they ran, hoping no bullets bore their name. Mina changed back into the form that meant there were no bats and she was no longer as eager for blood.

She had to get into the roofed automobile with Nemo. As she finally transformed back into herself, she hurried to get inside. She cleaned herself up discreetly as she sat in the back with Pavan’s body. Skinner was in the passenger seat beside Nemo. With everyone accounted for, Nemo set off first, flying across the road. Sawyer followed.

Nemo gripped to the steering wheel. It helped him to bear with the pain in his leg as well as the grief. The windscreen wipers could hardly keep up with the rain. The amount of gunfire began to lessen as their distance away from the fortress increased.

Nemo focused on the road but became more like a machine as time went on. He felt numb. He was lost in his own despair. He could feel the tears threatening to reveal themselves but he wouldn't allow it. Not yet. He was a captain; he had to remain strong.

He tried to direct his hopeless anger and grief into energy. It made him oblivious to the pain in his leg as he drove. All he wanted was to get back to his ship. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be free from any further pain and danger; to get off this hellish island. Nemo had never coped well with grief. He never would.

Skinner and Mina stayed silent. They understood how he was feeling. They had not been able to protect Pavan. He was dead and the fault felt like it was upon their shoulders.

Skinner didn't know how he was meant to act. He had to force himself not to keep looking back to Pavan. Instead, he turned the other way to make sure Mina was alright. Mina sat beside Pavan, but she didn't seem to mind as much. Skinner watched her tuck a long stray hair away from his still face with gentle hands. She looked up at Skinner as if trying to see if he was alright. Skinner's gaze settled on the passenger window, though he could see very little.

As much as Skinner didn't want to admit it, his wounds burned. He was willing to say he was in agony. He tried to hide it and refused to say anything. The others had to take priority. Skinner knew he could hold a little longer. Besides, the last thing the League needed was his complaining. He closed his eyes tight as the pain increased. He clenched his teeth and hoped he could stay quiet.

They were left in an icy silence as they waited to arrive back at the Nautilus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh... sorry about that? ^^"


	38. The Tables Turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another note to say this one includes child whump again, but tbh if you're still reading by this point then I'm going to guess you're okay with reading it.

**Chapter 38 - The Tables Turn  
** **Island X, 30th September**

Robur watched with fury as the two automobiles sped away in the distance, carrying their captain and first mate away to safety. The Mysterious Men's Mission had failed. All that was left were the bodies that the vampire had left behind and the fortress which once again lay destroyed.

But how?! How had they known that he was even behind it?! Was it due to him putting that flag down? No, it couldn't be, for he put it up only hours before the League had arrived in Belgium. Lupin had assured him there was no trail for the League to follow which tied them to the Island. Had Lupin lied to him? Whatever the reasoning, there had been some sort of mistake which would now cost the world dearly.

His first mate, Tom Turner approached Robur cradling an injured hand, dripping with blood. The Englishman was forty six years of age, with broad shoulders, though shorter in leg length. He had a large characteristic head which still sprouted a good amount of black hair. Turner was a man of iron, just like Robur.  
“Do you plan to follow them, Mr Robur?” he asked.  
“No, it would do little good. We've failed… Go have yourself patched up and then meet me on the Albatross. The invisible man caused her to crash and I don't know the extent of the damage.”

Robur had no time to further that thought. He turned upon hearing Fantômas calling out to him. Robur excused himself and hurried to meet him, unsure of what was wrong. Fantômas was out of breath as he made it within speaking distance to him.

“Robur, you must hurry. Armand is injured,” Fantômas called out.  
Robur closed the distance. “What? How bad is it?” Robur demanded.

Fantômas bent over, supporting himself by placing his hands on his thighs. “I'm not sure- a shot in the leg, I think.”   
“By who?! Where is he?”   
“I saw the League pulling away from them. Zenith found him. They're both in Zenith’s room.”

Robur was about to hurry off, but Fantômas straightened up. "You should know. Champeau is caring for the wound for the time being."  
"Champeau?!"  
"He was the first I came across. Armand really didn't have the time for me to look for someone better."

With the briefest of nods in Fantômas's direction, Robur took off. He hoped with all his might that it would not have serious consequences. His son was everything to him. If he had been hurt then it would no doubt be the League's doing. If this was the case then Robur would not take it lying down. Injuring his son, a child at that, for revenge was unacceptable. If the League wanted a war they were sure as sunrise going to get one.

But of all the people to care for his son! Champeau was friends with the man who had tried to kill him and Armand. What if he tried something now right under Zenith's nose? Something as simple as a dirty needle could kill him.

Robur made it to Zenith's door within a few minutes, chest heaving with exhaustion. He didn't consider knocking as he opened the door wide. Zenith was sat in a chair beside Armand, who was lying on the bed asleep for the time being. Zenith was watching Champeau carefully.

The nurse noticed the suspicion, but he did not hesitate in his work of cleaning the wound ready for sewing. Zenith was ill, that was clear to see, but he looked to be enduring it for Armand’s sake. Armand did not appear to look any better, he was soaked with sweat and rain, with a pale complexion. The amount of bloodied blankets and dressings didn’t escape his notice.

"Robur, there's something I have to tell you-" Zenith started.  
"I'm sure it can wait a moment. What happened here?"

“Would one of you mind getting me some more water, please?” Champeau asked, unafraid of cutting into the conversation.

Zenith reluctantly got up at the nurse's request and left. He gave Robur a pleading look, a glance that warned him to keep an eye on Champeau. Zenith gestured for Robur to have his chair as he left. The unintentional pain that Champeau caused by treating the wound seemed to bring Armand back around. As Zenith left, Armand woke up, his chest shuddering as his injury made itself known to him. Robur knew from experience how badly it would hurt now that it was being seen to.

“Armand,” Robur muttered in alarm. He grimaced at the sight of the injury his son had collected.  
“Da?” Armand mewled, turning his head to see him.  
“It's me, Armand. Easy now, lie still,” Robur said softly. He stroked his son’s damp and dirty hair, comforting him as best he could. “I’ve got you,” Robur found himself repeating as if more to himself than his son.

Armand clamped his eyes shut as Champeau continued to work. The boy's hand wandered down to his injury but Robur stopped him. He took hold of his son’s hand. Armand held on tight to his father, trying to manage the pain. Robur encouraged him to hold on to him. Robur could tell he was weakened, he expected a much fiercer reaction to the pain than this.

As Champeau continued to work, Robur had to keep both of Armand’s arms well out of the way as the pain became more outgoing.  
“I'm sorry, Armand. I'll be as quick as I can,” the nurse explained.  
"Have you nothing to help him?" Robur asked, his voice heavy.  
Champeau took it as a threat. "I sent someone to get some for me. I haven't been able to leave him." The look on his face suggested it had been serious. Perhaps it still was. He had lost a lot of blood.

Armand opened his eyes and looked down to see what the nurse was doing. He began to try to sit up and his eyes grew wide, his breathing becoming jittery.

Robur let go of one of his hands and took him by the cheek, turning his head. “Eyes on me, my boy, not that. You're going to be alright. Take some deep breaths for me.”

Robur steadied himself and focused on appearing reassuring. It made it easier for him to calm his son that way. This was how Armand was used to him appearing and how he needed him to seem when he needed his father most. Robur was always cool in such situations and this could be no exception.

"I’m almost done," Champeau reassured him. 

Armand tried to lean further over to his father but Robur moved closer instead, settling his hand in his soaked forehead while the other still held his wrists. “Keep still, my lad.”

“I.Is Zenith alright?” Armand managed. “He was unconscious before.”  
“I'm sure Zenith is fine,” Robur replied. So thoughtful, always worrying about others before he worried about himself. Robur smiled gently down at him.

It wasn't long after that Zenith reappeared with a bowl of hot water which he gave to Champeau.  
“Nice to see you awake, lad,” Zenith smiled.  
Armand tried to smile back at him but pain interrupted him.

Champeau checked the temperature of the water and proceeded to further rip Armand’s trouser leg more than he already had. Armand began to doze off but he whimpered. Robur didn't stop him from sleeping. He knew it was better for him this way.

Zenith gave the water to Champeau then stepped aside. "Robur, I have to talk to you, it really cannot wait."  
“Go on.”  
“They've got Lupin.”  
“What? Who has?”  
“The League. This is what I've been trying to tell you.”

Robur's grimaced. “Tell me everything, Zenith. What happened?”  
“Hyde came after me but I managed to lose him. I followed the League after a minute and saw Armand in front of them. He'd froze. I don’t think he knew if it was safe to run. I distracted the League and gave him time to get to safety. I was about to leave but I saw Lupin was unconscious and wounded. I tried to save him but they overwhelmed me. I've failed him and I don't know if Nemo will stay true to his word.”

“The League is stronger than we could ever be. Do not blame yourself. But what do you mean by Nemo's word?”  
“Before he rendered me unconscious, he told me to tell you not to follow. He swore he'd care for Lupin and release him, but if we were to follow, he'd kill him.”  
Zenith paced a little “I’m not even at the sum of our problems yet. Did you know Quatermain’s alive?”   
“That’s impossible,” Robur retorted.  
“Tell that to him. He was in the automobile with the rest of them. Somehow, they’ve got their leader back.”

Robur sat in silence, thinking hard. “Let’s worry about Lupin first. Tell some of the men to start a search - he might have gotten away.”  
Zenith nodded “Already done.” He glanced to Champeau, “but I'd best check everyone is secure.”  
“They're in the cells where I left them when I was looking after Jean,” Champeau said flatly, not looking up from his work. He sighed and chewed his lip in concern “Make sure he's alright for me.”

“I will,” Zenith said curiously. With a nod from Robur, he left.

The captain stayed where he was, staring at his resting son. He stayed like that for a while, tangled in his grim thoughts. Deeply concerned for his son and terrified for Lupin. What was Nemo planning? There was no way in which Nemo wouldn't exact some sort of revenge on his second in command, was there? Would Lupin’s kindness towards Nemo save him? He could only hope Lupin could look after himself.

It didn't take the nurse long to clean, seal and bandage Armand’s wound. “There,” Champeau sighed. “I've done what I can. That will hold it for now, but you should get him to the mainland-”  
“What are you talking about?” Robur asked gruffly, looking up at the young man.

“I'm only a nurse, Robur. I'm not all that used to mending bullet holes. I've bought us some time, a few days at the most, but Armand needs a doctor- a good one if you want him to walk unhindered. He will need medicine but the explosion looks to have hit most of the supplies. If we can get him to France then my father will be able to help. He's a very skilful physician. Besides, at the moment the island is no place for him to heal. The risk of infection will multiply tenfold if he stays here,” Champeau explained.

“You certainly didn't have this trouble with bullet holes when Nyctalope was shot,” Robur pointed out.   
“No, because his wound was small. The bullet hadn't buried itself as far into his body. It hit the metal in his chest. This is different. Captain, please do not think I am doing this to spite you. I want Armand to heal just as much as you do but here is not the place for him to stay,” Champeau answered coolly. He knew that Robur was annoyed. It was no good taking offence. With everything that had happened over the last few weeks, he was sure to be untrusting of Nyctalope's friend.

Robur restrained himself as Zenith returned for a second time.

“The three of them are secure. Admittedly Jean is in a bad way but stable from what I can tell.”   
“I'd best go to see to the Albatross then. Once I know it is secure, I’ll move Armand onboard. I'll have to see what damage those swine did first,” Robur said. He looked at Champeau. “We need to get to France, though it will have its difficulties. If you’re done here I’ll send someone to take you back to Degains.”

Champeau nodded in half-hearted thanks. 

“Robur go and do what you need to do. I'll keep an eye on Armand,” Zenith replied.  
“I want to quickly check your head while you're here, Zenith,” Champeau added. 

With one last look at Armand’s sleeping form, Robur left. He refused to rest until the Albatross was fixed and Armand was on his way to his best chance of recovery. Robur hoped to be able to find Lupin on the island. He didn't dare imagine what Nemo would do if he had the opportunity.

It was a race against time, and with that grim thought in the front of his mind, he hurried to his ship.


	39. Recovery

**Chapter 39 - Recovery  
** **_The Nautilus_ ** **, Coast of Island X: September 30th**

As soon as the League made it back to the Nautilus, Quatermain hurried out of the automobile to tell the crew that they needed a stretcher. They already had them at hand, anticipating such. The two automobiles made their way back onto the ship and from there Ishmael was whisked off to the infirmary with the help of a crewman. Lupin was taken next on a stretcher. They kept the coat over him to keep him warm.   
“He should have woken up by now,” Nemo mumbled to himself. His concern for Lupin’s wellbeing grew.

Sawyer came to get Skinner to help him up to the infirmary. As blood dried around his wounds, they became visible, and he was badly marked. Everyone was shocked at the number of injuries he had. He tried to insist he was fine, but a dizzy spell told Sawyer otherwise. So even with Skinner grumbling, Sawyer took him to be looked after.

Nemo stayed in the automobile for a moment to rest his tired body. Mina looked at him from behind. She could see the exhaustion entering his frame, the emotion eating away at him.

She placed her hand on Nemo’s shoulder and squeezed it very gently. Nemo’s hand fell on top of hers for a moment and he sighed. He turned his head so he could see her hand out of the corner of his eye before he patted it, a gesture for her to let go. Mina acknowledged his request and understood why when she saw some of his men coming to collect Pavan’s body. She climbed out of the car, not bothering to wait for someone to open it.

Nemo climbed out of the driver's seat and as he did his mask of control came back. To the crew around him, it looked as though nothing had happened to the captain over the last few weeks. He didn't hide his grief, only his personal pain and anger. Once he was standing he had to steady himself by putting one hand on the roof to help take the pressure off his throbbing leg. He looked at Pavan’s body as some of the crew carried him away. After a moment Nemo looked away and blinked hard.

Mina walked around the automobile to meet him, put his arm over her shoulders and helped him to walk. Nemo tried not to lean on her too much but the further he walked, the harder it became. Nemo tried to walk towards his room but Mina wouldn’t allow it.   
“I’m taking you to the infirmary.”

“Mrs Harker, I assure you, I will be fine.”   
“I wasn’t asking, Captain. Your leg needs to be treated."   
“It is unnecessary. Jekyll will be busy enough without my contribution,” Nemo insisted, though his wincing didn’t strengthen his side of the argument.

“Jekyll isn’t the only one with medical training on this ship. All I ask is you stay here tonight,” Mina continued. At that Nemo did not try to argue and so allowed himself to be guided away. He had to admit it was a relief to finally be back, even with the horrid and cruel circumstances.

It didn’t take Mina and Nemo long at all to get up to the infirmary. The infirmary wasn’t huge, but it was enough. There were two rows of ten plain beds at either side of the room. Each bed had the option of a curtain to offer some privacy. Some of Nemo’s crew were about, helping where they could. Mina helped Nemo to a chair and left him to check if Jekyll needed help.

Sawyer and Quatermain had left the infirmary for the time being to get changed into dry clothes. Mina and Jekyll would have to get changed later once the injured had been seen to.

Upon returning to his side, Nemo insisted that Mina saw to the others first. Though he had tried to hide it, the captain was tired and felt drained as he internally grieved. He needed undisturbed time to think. Mina decided that what the captain had said was wise, but she asked one of the crew to see him briefly.

The captain didn’t need much care for the time being at least but Mina wanted to keep an eye on him. His boot was removed and his ankle had ice applied to it, which Nemo held in place himself. To finish it off, he was given a blanket to wrap around his shoulders to help keep him warm from the bad weather.

Nemo didn’t like the attention, but he couldn’t deny he was chilled to the bone and his ankle throbbed. His clothes were still wet but Sawyer went to collect him some dry ones. Nemo didn't really have the energy to get changed into the few sets of clothes he had left but, once Sawyer drew the curtain for him, he managed. After that Nemo was left to sit quietly in a chair, grateful for the closed curtain.

Mina helped Lupin, moving the wet coat off him and covering him with a blanket. She did not like the fact that he was still asleep. He reeked of blood, and Mina was glad she’d already drunk her fill, she assumed it was from his nose and didn’t care that much to check. As she looked over his head she saw no large bumps, but she was drawn to small speck of blood on his shoulder, and a few drops of blood almost at his neck. An injection?

There was little she could do for that aside from telling the other medics to monitor him. If,  _ if _ , he woke up, she had no clue what Nemo wanted doing with him. She wanted to help Skinner first, rather than an enemy.

Helping Skinner wasn’t easy. Mina had to clean and sew wounds that she could not see. Her vampiric abilities seemed to help her somewhat and with a great deal of care and guidance from Skinner, she managed. Burns had been easier to treat. The skin was dead and she could tell what she was working with, but this time it was much more difficult with only the slowly drying blood that she had to wash away.

What concerned her was how quiet the thief was. He hissed at the pain but didn’t really say anything. He was sitting straddling a wooden chair so he could lean on the chair’s back whilst Mina could see to his shoulder blade. He didn’t squirm half as much as what she expected. He seemed to have suddenly steeled himself up and was able to tolerate the pain somewhat.

“Rodney, are you alright?” she couldn’t help but ask, frowning in concern.   
“Me? I’ll be fine. Just tired,” Skinner answered. He ended up yawning and seemed to be trying to go to sleep.   
Mina kept him awake long enough to bandage his shoulder, with the invisible man’s guidance. She didn't believe him one bit in terms of his welfare but understood that he didn't want to talk. Unfortunately, she wasn’t done yet. 

The process was repeated for his arms by which point they found themselves in the later hours of the night. Nemo had drifted off to sleep and Skinner seemed keen to do the same. He was glad when it was finally over. Mina helped him to bed and left him to sleep, drawing the curtains that surrounded the area around his bed to give him some privacy. By this point, the rest of the crew had left the infirmary, so Mina assumed that all of the badly injured had been seen to.

Mina could manage very well with not sleeping for a night, but for Jekyll staying awake wasn't as easy. He was still with Ishmael who was left to heal now the wound had been mended. His wounds were not bad, but it had taken more time than he'd expected to help him. The curtain had been drawn. Mina quietly entered to see the doctor was asleep in a chair beside the first mate. He was a light sleeper which was helpful in these circumstances. If she needed help, she only needed to call.

There was nothing Mina could do for Nemo, not until the morning. The swelling in his ankle was going down and it didn’t look half as angry. With a very gentle shake, she woke the captain and helped him to a bed where he could sleep comfortably. Mina left the ice off, but she put a pillow under his leg to raise it up a bit. The captain fell asleep again quickly after asking if everyone was alright and receiving the answer he hoped for.

After there was only one left to tend to properly; that was Arsène Lupin- she recognised him from Belgium. He still hadn’t woken up. The crew had wiped the blood off his face and cleaned him up a bit, though his face was still badly marked. Mina didn’t think his injuries were serious but she decided to check properly all the same. He still needed to get changed out of his wet clothes. He hadn't woken up and unconsciousness for this long was a massive cause for concern. His nose was broken which would need fixing, but initially, Mina expected that was all. The strengthening scent of blood around him as she approached, however, was cause for concern. It shouldn’t have been there, not now the blood had been cleaned up...

Lupin’s arms were resting on top of the blanket by his sides, though as he slept his hand had crept up to his chest. Movement was a good sign at least. Mina found it unusual to see that his hands were covered in so much dry blood. She moved his arms and pulled the blanket away that covered him. She couldn't shift the feeling that something was wrong and her instincts proved to be right. Upon opening his blazer which was wrapped around him, Mina found something no one had noticed, what no one had wanted to notice.

Mina walked over to Jekyll and shook his shoulder. “Dr Jekyll,” she whispered.  
Jekyll shook himself awake and followed her to see what was wrong. Blood was still sluggishly oozing from the wound and it was a sore sight to behold. It was a long and deep gash.

“I didn't see that he was hurt,” Jekyll muttered in alarm as went to collect his things. “I thought it was just blood from his nose.”  
“Nor did I… There was so much blood in the air I didn't realise... I only thought he was unconscious,” Mina replied, as she unbuttoned the remains of his shirt to reveal his battered chest and torso.

Jekyll returned and the two set to work. It was a slow process but Lupin gave them no difficulty by moving in his sleep. Once his chest was treated, they checked him over for any more injuries. There were plenty of cuts and scrapes though most needed no stitches. There was however, a very bad scar on his side, but that was long healed. Mina wondered where he collected such a mark. Lupin’s left wrist looked to be badly bruised and swollen. A strain, no doubt - perhaps from a fall?

An hour passed but by then all of Lupin’s injuries were seen to, including his nose. Mina and Jekyll changed him into clean clothes and put him under fresh blankets. The thief had lost a lot of blood, but he had hopefully avoided any danger. Mina had to stay with him for half an hour to keep some ice on his wrist.

In truth, Mina knew why no one had noticed he was wounded. No one wanted him here, no one particularly wanted to help him to pay enough attention. He was an enemy and Mina did not understand why he was here. The only explanation she could supply as that Nemo wanted him here, and she had every intention of respecting that wish, or so she thought she had.

Then all that could be done was to wait.

* * *

**_The Nautilus_ ** **, Indian Ocean: October 1st,**

Lupin slowly pulled himself around into consciousness. He expected himself to be trapped, suffocating in heavy darkness. For great rocks and boulders to be crushing him. He thought the dust would be wrapping around his throat, slowly choking him and squeezing all the air out of his lungs.

It was quite the reverse.

Lupin found himself in a soft warm bed. It was not the bed he lay in on Island X. No, he could tell the difference, although the change was subtle, he could tell this bed was softer and it eased the pressure off his aching muscles. He tried to sit up to move the pillows further up, but his body protested and kept him down, that, and the shackle on his less sore hand which he guessed was fastened to the bed frame.

"Wake up, Lupin. Come on," someone said gently. English? That left Lupin feeling just as confused.  
"By Jove," he muttered, cracking his eyes open. "I must have gone down harder than I thought." The thief swallowed hard; his throat was dry and sore.  
"Indeed you did. You've been unconscious all night. We doubted if you were going to ever wake up."

Lupin slowly opened his eyes; even such a gentle light that the lamp provided in his area was enough to aggravate his stinging eyes. He had heard the voice before, but he was too tired and dizzy to focus properly. He could only wait for his eyes to calm down as he blinked hard. His head was pounding and he could not get it to subside.

He wanted to go back to sleep but understood that this needed immediate attention. Lupin knew the voice did not belong to an inhabitant of the island but in that case what had happened? Where was he? Though he did not know the answer, the thief decided to put on his little act. The Arsène Lupin that the newspapers knew and loved to report on. The careless man whose intelligence could not easily be beaten. The cunning thief who feared nothing- not even death. He could ill afford himself to be seen as anyone else.

Now his eyes had settled, he found Dr Jekyll to be sitting on the edge of the bed. He was wrapping a bandage around Lupin's left wrist. The thief found himself in the infirmary of the Nautilus and couldn't deny that he was a little surprised.  
"My my, it seems I have missed a great deal. Tell me, doctor, just how badly damaged is my poor arm- and the rest of me of course."  
Jekyll sighed, tying the bandage off. Lupin yelped at the extra pressure on his hand.  
"By Jupiter, be careful over there! Come now, surely you aren't still mad at me for borrowing a few bottles of formula?"

Lupin silently studied the doctor, he knew just how far he could push him before he put himself at risk. Jekyll definitely seemed to be quite red raw one way or another.

"I’m much more annoyed at other factors but as a matter of fact, yes. Do you realise just how dangerous those vials are?”  
"Quite so."  
"You could have killed someone. You very nearly killed Nemo."  
"Hence the reason I thought the vials would have been well guarded. If it makes you feel any better about this whole affair, then I am truly sorry. However, orders are orders."

Just then the curtain surrounding Lupin’s bed moved to reveal Nemo. Lupin wasn't sure what had happened but Nemo was using a walking stick. He seemed more relaxed now he was on his ship. He was glad to see it.

_ Oh how quickly the tables can turn,  _ Lupin thought to himself with a weak smile. It was almost as though they had switched places.

"Is everything alright?"  
"Yes, Captain, he’s in a far better state than I expected. I do believe your friend's personality is still in check. He’ll recover quickly, given he rests. Although he did manage to badly cut his chest. I suppose anything could have been in amongst the rubble. Luck seems to be on his side,” Jekyll explained.

“It wasn't the rubble that did that,” the thief muttered.  
“Lupin?” Nemo inquired.  
“I was attacked, I hardly had a chance to fight back. He was too strong, too fast. He injected me with… with something.” For a moment the thief seemed lost in his memories, thinking things through.

“Lupin, who is responsible for this?” Nemo asked curiously, limping to the end of the bed and consequently drawing his attention.  
Lupin looked down. “It was Nyctalope. I was wrong about him, but I could have sworn he was innocent.”  
“Try not to concern yourself with it until you recover. Still, I have to ask, when was this? Nyctalope was at the cells before I escaped. Sawyer and I struggled to leave.”

Lupin shrugged, a movement he immediately regretted but continued with a hiss. “I do not know, Monsieur. I must have time to think this through… Whilst I have your attention, however, may I be so bold as to ask why I am here and what is to become of me?”  
“You may. I am returning you to France. You have the chance to get away from the Mysterious Men. Though, whether you leave or not is your decision.”

Lupin pulled a face of doubt. “Just like that? I find it incredibly hard to believe."  
“Whether you believe it or not does not concern me. You have about two weeks on board before I drop you off at Marseilles. After that, you are on your own. In the meanwhile,” Nemo produced a key from the bedside table.  
“Give me your word of honour that you won’t try to escape or disrupt this ship in any way, and I will allow you the freedom to move around as you please on board.”   


Lupin studied Nemo for the slightest of seconds. Nemo had reclaimed all the authority the position as Captain gave him. Nemo seemed a little blunter than expected. The thief sighed with a grateful nod. "Very well, you have my word.  _ Merci _ ."  
Nemo released his hand, and Lupin stretched it, rotating his wrist around. “Go against your word and you will be confined to your room.”  
“I understand. I’d much rather use this time to heal.”  
Jekyll and Nemo looked at each other with a small nod. They both left.

Lupin was about to settle down and give in to sleep, but he was interrupted by Skinner coming to see him.

“Well don't you look as rough as a badger’s backside?” Skinner remarked half-heartedly.  
“You probably aren't in top form either,” Lupin pointed out, opening one eye. Lupin could not see him fully, only a large floating mass of bandages and a pair of pyjama trousers. Skinner stood at the bottom of the bed, leaning against the metal bed frame with his arms folded.  
“No thanks to you lot anyway,” Skinner grumbled.  
“If you're going to blame me for all this and expect an argument, at least get me a drink of water first,” Lupin said defiantly, knowing fine well where this conversation was leading.

Skinner tutted, but moved forward and handed him a glass from the table beside him. Lupin took it, drinking it down in a draught, the pain in his throat increased, but it would soon settle once more.

“If I had it my way, I'd have left you on the island or at least locked you up. You're lucky Nemo is the one in charge.”

“How very kind… Who else was injured when you came for your captain?”  
“You and me. Nemo hurt his leg again, Mina was almost killed and Ishmael nearly got crushed… We lost one too. The acting captain,” Skinner answered quietly, so the others couldn’t overhear, it was harder to tell how he was feeling with only the tone of his voice to go on. It was still clear he was internally upset though he was channelling it out through anger.

The news took Lupin aback. He was silent for a few seconds before he found his voice. “I'm sorry… Our entire mission clearly came to be blown out of proportion. We didn't want anyone to be hurt through this.”  
“Well, that went out the window, didn't it? What did you even want with Nemo?” he asked somewhat harshly.

Mina Harker drew the curtain back quickly. “Skinner, back to bed,” she ordered.  
“Queen’s orders,” Skinner muttered, leaving the thief alone. The amount of blood that had been spilt throughout this greatly weighed on both of the thieves and no doubt would for a long while.

“Do you need anything?” Mina asked Lupin, taking the empty glass from him  
“No, thank you, Mrs Harker,” Lupin answered politely, knowing fine well not to annoy the vampire- especially with the news he had just heard.

With that, she left him to sleep. Her expression remained cold as she drew the curtain. Lupin decided to take full advantage of the opportunity of the privacy he had and went back to sleep. What else was there to do after all? The more he slept the sooner he could hopefully heal, which sounded promising to his battered body. He knew this was going to be a very long journey.


	40. Picking Up the Pieces

**Chapter 40 - Picking Up the Pieces  
** **_The Albatross_ ** **, Island X: October 2nd**

Robur barely rested as he worked on repairing the Albatross. Skinner had managed to cripple her engine, but the rest of the ship had mostly stayed intact. Robur was confident that he could have everything fixed within a day or two at the very most. Fixing the Albatross had commenced at daybreak the day before, though Robur used the time before that to assess the damage on both the ship and the Island itself. The Albatross had to be ready to fly as soon as possible and for the time being that was where Robur's attention was focused. He was confident he’d finish with the repairs by the end of the day.

Everyone, except Lupin, had been accounted for, though some more fortunate than others. That meant that all that was needed was a clean up on the Island. Robur knew he had to get Armand to the mainland to ensure his survival. This was one of his main worries. The other being the welfare of Lupin.

Despite all of the heated arguments between them recently, Robur hoped he was alright. There was no sign of him being on the island and dozens of men who had been defending the fortress clarified that he was in one of the cars. Robur knew Nemo wanted revenge and the captain could only hope that Nemo did not intend to take it out on his second in command. Robur couldn't shake the feeling that Nemo was the cause of his son’s injury. If Nemo was willing to shoot Armand, what else was he willing to do?

Using his brute strength to lift a replacement part above his head, he held it in place until his two engineers could secure it. It took a little while and Robur was beginning to tire from holding it but he did not budge. He would not stop until the Albatross was repaired. Whenever he did take a break it was to see that Armand was recovering. His son’s weak condition served as his motivation and kept him working longer.

Fantômas came to see Robur as he was working. The noise meant they had to raise their voices.  
“What is it, Fantômas?” Robur finally asked, letting go of the part and rubbing his shoulder.  
“Firstly I came to see if there was anything I could do to help.”  
“Well, there are a few things I'd appreciate you looking into for me. Was there anything else?”

“I'd like to know how you are fairing?” Fantômas inquired.  
“I'm fine but I must get my ship working. Every moment counts. Armand isn’t getting any better and Lupin is who knows where, having who knows what happening to him.”  
“Lupin is a clever man, he can take care of himself.”

Robur sighed and shook his head to himself. None of this had gone to plan. None of it!

“Now, what is it you need of me?” Fantômas asked, struggling to compete with the noise of the workmen.  
“I need you to check the rooms Nemo and Ishmael occupied- check there is no way to escape,” Robur explained loudly.  
They struggled to hear each other over the work, so Robur gestured for Fantômas to follow him to the Nemo’s old cell on the Albatross.

“Why do you need them checked? Who is going to be occupying it?” Fantômas asked as he began to check the walls and the furniture of Nemo’s cell. Neither of the two men knew if Nemo had been trying to prepare an escape, though so far it looked like they were in luck.  
“I'm taking Nyctalope and the other three to France,” Robur said.

“What on Earth for?”  
“I don't want him on my island or my ship. I'll see if the police will have him. But first I'm using them to make sure Champeau and his father don't try to trick us.”  
“I'm assuming Champeau's father will be seeing to Armand’s leg?”  
“Yes. He is one of the best, he saved Lupin years ago where most would have failed. There’s no denying his skill, but I don't want them telling the League where we are or anything along those lines. It’s a small risk, but I’m not willing to take it.”

“I see. Is Nyctalope going to be alone in this cell?”  
“I'll probably put Coqui in with him. I don't want him with the engineer in case they find a means of escape and I don't want him making plans with Champeau either. That way he can care for Degains anyway. There'd be an uproar if I didn't and I want no trouble.”  
“Very good. I'll need to check the lock over but there is no way that I can see for them to escape. Still, I'd be careful - especially Jean. Being an engineer, I can't help but wonder if he can pick locks. A good bolt on the outside of the door and out of reach should suffice,” Fantômas replied.

Robur nodded. He'd have some of the lads bring the four down later, once the ship was mended. Robur was sure of one thing however: this was no longer about France. This was personal.

* * *

**_The Nautilus_ ** **, Indian Ocean: October 4th**

Nemo sat by his Ishmael’s bed, intending to stay there for as long as Jekyll would let him. Ishmael had been lucky and his injuries were minor, but he still needed bed rest. Nemo appreciated his company; he understood what he had been through. The doctor had left the infirmary for the time being so he enjoyed the quiet. There was only Lupin and Skinner still in the infirmary with them. Lupin was fast asleep after having managed to eat a small meal. Skinner was also resting those bad wounds for once. Usually, he kept sneaking out when he could, which was whenever Jekyll left.

It had not escaped Nemo's notice that none of the League was happy to have Lupin on board. Hopefully, once he told them why Lupin was here then their opinions would change. Lupin could look after himself, so as long as there was no violence between him and the others then explanations could wait. Nemo needed time to process everything that had happened and he didn't want to talk about what had happened just yet. He didn't want pity. He just wanted to get back to normality.

As the captain’s thoughts began to wander he watched Ishmael’s chest rising and falling in his sleep. He'd protected some of what mattered this time around. Last time the death toll had been so much higher.

Nemo sighed to himself as he waited patiently for Ishmael to heal. He began to speak to the first mate quietly “I'm sorry you have to go through his again, my friend... Every time I make a mistake, it's you that pays the price.” Nemo sighed and looked down. "And now Robur will seek revenge once again. I dare not imagine what that will lead to...”

For a moment Ishmael did not move, though his lips parted slightly as he exhaled. Nemo swallowed back his emotions and stood to leave Ishmael to rest. As if in answer to his captain’s call, Ishmael opened his eyes and groaned. Had he actually been awake all this time, just listening to what he had to say?

Nemo sat down, leaned forward and smiled confidently, relieved to see Ishmael waking up at least. Neither spoke for a few moments as Ishmael fully opened his eyes.  
“Captain, you cannot blame yourself… None of this your fault,” Ishmael managed weakly, stretching as best he could manage. Nemo smiled and looked away for a moment. He was right; Ishmael had managed to hear.

“Always you say that, and always, I wonder how you can arrive at such a conclusion,” Nemo acknowledged.  
“And always you place the blame on yourself even when you’ve done everything you can,” Ishmael pointed out as he struggled to sit up. Nemo helped him as best he could, moving the cushions to make him more comfortable. His hip looked to be the cause of his troubles. 

Ishmael took a deep breath, retaining what strength he had in his voice. “How long will it be until we are at the burial grounds for Pavan?”  
“A week, perhaps a few days longer than that.”  
The first mate could only nod in understanding, but anger seeped into his frame.

“Why didn't I kill that bastard Robur when I had the chance?” Ishmael spat.  
“Next time he will not be so lucky. He has affected our lives too many times and for far too long. I have already sworn to you I will kill him and I fully intend to keep true to my word. I'm returning Lupin to France. I'm counting on him to get contact with Robur. We will be ready for him,” Nemo said quietly, glancing backwards to check Lupin and Skinner were still asleep.

Ishmael nodded in solid approval. “You’re using him as bait,” he clarified. “When did you think of this, captain?”   
“At first I took Lupin to protect him. He saved my life and so I returned the favour. It was only once we returned to the Nautilus I became aware of the opportunity that had presented itself.”

“Good.” Ishmael winced in pain. He was tired and his side was throbbing. He rested his hand on it to help contain the sting of the healing wound. 

Nemo saw his face light up suddenly. "Mr Sawyer," Ishmael said.  
Nemo turned to see Sawyer standing a small distance away. Never had Nemo seen anyone look so out of place.   
"I'm not disturbing anything, am I?" Sawyer asked, rubbing his arm "Just I, uh…"  
Nemo exchanged a glance with Ishmael. He felt he knew what this was about.

"Not at all. Speak, what's troubling you?" Nemo said.  
Sawyer rubbed the back of his neck, "When you went missing… I was hoping to find a clue to figure out where you were. When Ishmael was taken too, we got hints that you were at Island X- Point is, I went into your belongings and looked inside your book in the chest. I really want to apologise-"

Nemo raised his hand and smiled softly. "There is nothing to forgive, Tom. Your actions likely saved my life and for that, I can only thank you. Without you, I might still have been locked away on that Island, or worse."  
Sawyer nodded sheepishly "Still…"  
"I know and if it eases your uncertainty, I accept your apology. I should ask, I hope you were not badly injured in Belgium? I saw the automobile go off the road."  
Sawyer smiled and shrugged it off, "Just a bump on the head. Some English Detective, Sherlock Holmes, and a police officer, Poirot, helped us figure out where you were too- can't say it was all me."

The quiet footsteps of Jekyll quickly caught Nemo's attention.   
“Captain. I didn't think you were still here,” Jekyll said.  
“I was about to take my leave. I am due at the helm."  
"Please be sure to rest your leg," Jekyll said. "At least the worst of this seems behind us."  
“Indeed, this entire predicament will soon be settled once we arrive in France. I'm quite sure of it. Please excuse me,” Nemo answered quietly as he left, still using a cane.  
Sawyer frowned at his words but said nothing.

Skinner lay on his bed, feigning sleep. Little had the captain realised that Skinner had been wide awake through all of the conversations. He listened to what Nemo said to Ishmael at first when he thought he was unconscious. He hated to think Nemo blamed himself and knowing how much he feared Robur's return made his blood boil. 

He knew Nemo would force himself to get through his all alone. He would struggle on, and Lupin was without the slightest doubt responsible for reopening, if not deepening, the wounds Nemo’s past carried. It was because of Lupin and the Mysterious Men Nemo was like this, softer in ways, more withdrawn than usual. It was because of them that they had been forced to risk their lives for Nemo, with Pavan paying the ultimate price.

He’d had too much time to think about things. He thought about how they’d even managed to catch the Mysterious Men in the first place. The more he thought, the more he realised that Lupin had probably left the clues which the League had found, the calculating little snake! The idea of Lupin making this out to be some sick game made him want to get out of bed and knock him into next week!

Skinner was a light-spirited man, but there was no way he could focus on the bright side. Too much had happened, too much for even him to brush aside. This journey was not going to be easy for him, or anyone else. 


	41. The Man of Warped Iron

**Chapter 41 - The Man of Warped Iron  
** **Island X, October 2nd**

Robur went with a dozen men when it was time to move Nyctalope and his companions from the Island to the Albatross. He was not going to have any mistakes or escape attempts. Although, he hoped that Degain's condition would be enough to prevent any such attempts. They were loyal to one another, he gave them that much. They might have betrayed France and the Mysterious Men, but never each other. He liked that- it made them predictable.

The four were locked in a single room, or basement rather, with adequate light and warmth but no windows. It was another risk he was not willing to take. He gave the order for the sturdy door to be unlocked. Half of the men were armed with guns, and so Robur sent them in first. There was a small exclamation of alarm from Coqui but otherwise, all was still. Robur went inside with the other half of his men.

He could see the four near one of the corners. Nyctalope and Rene Coqui raised their arms in the air, Jean was asleep and Champeau was rebandaging the wound on his head. He did not stop in his work for the gunmen. He kept carefully adding layer after layer. Until he was satisfied with it. He tied it off carefully and only then did he raise his hands.

"Will he wake soon?" Robur asked Champeau flatly, looking at Degains.   
"I doubt it, and he should not walk yet," he answered.  
Robur called for a stretcher. Two of the unarmed men left the room and went to retrieve one.  
"Will you let my father continue to treat him when we arrive?" Champeau asked.   
"That depends on your compliance on the journey there. Any escape attempts and I'll be inclined to say no."

Champeau turned to look at Nyctalope and Coqui, to be sure they understood and agreed.

Robur nodded. His unarmed men moved forward, binding Nyctalope and Coqui's hands tightly before marching them out. Nyctalope paused near the door, only to quietly ask, "Is there any news of Lupin?"  
For a moment he didn't answer, he pondered keeping silence to spite them, but he was mature and there was nothing to raise Saint-Clairs spirits either way. "No."

Neither of them said anything else and Nyctalope kept his head down. He gave the impression of the fight being out of him, but that was not an illusion Robur was willing to believe. Once the two had a head start, the men lifted Degains onto the stretcher, with Champeau taking great care to protect his head. 

"You never told me his wounds," Robur observed as Champeau's hands were now also tied in front of him.  
"A bad head injury, at the back. I’m sure he cracked his skull. There doesn't seem to be any brain damage from what I’ve been able to tell, but he lost a lot of blood from it, and a bad wound in his back. His body is very badly bruised and scraped, but he's lucky he didn't break his spine. He’ll need time to heal."

Robur nodded. He was surprised by the seriousness of his condition. "Take them away. They can supper once they're on board."

Champeau frowned in confusion but could only allow the men to guide him away, with Jean following soon after on the stretcher. Robur left the room. How had he gotten into this mess? He should never have allowed Nyctalope to join, but then, the Government never did give him much choice in matters.

* * *

**Paris, France, 1892**

“Are you sure about this, Mr Robur?” Tom Turner, Robur’s first mate asked from the deck of the Albatross. “It’s a big stage you’ll be going on. Could be dangerous.”  
“I’m well aware, Turner It’s a risk I’m confident to take. Stand by for my return and keep a close eye on Armand for me.”  
“Understood, Captain,” he replied.

Robur used a rope ladder to lower himself down onto the back streets of Paris. Once his feet touched the ground, the ladder was pulled up and the Albatross gained altitude, hiding in the mist. The weather couldn’t have been better for Robur. It was time for him to ruffle more feathers in another lighter than air aviation society. They were all the same fundamentally: wrong. 

But his suspicions had been confirmed in America some time ago that people could take great offence to learn that everything they were working for was going to be useless. They wouldn’t accept that others, that he, was right and they simply were not. Heavier-than-air aircraft was superior to lighter-than-air. He enjoyed walking into crowds of people and correcting their ill-informed opinions.

And that was why he was stood at the doors of the building leading to a conference between over a hundred lighter-than-air engineers. How could he resist announcing the fact he was the first in the world to unlock the mystery of flight?

He knocked loudly and waited. The door opened promptly, revealing a butler. Robur introduced himself and asked for an audience with the group. There was some reluctance, but Robur’s assertive nature prompted him to open the door and allow him inside.

Robur waited at the door as the butler went forward to announce him. Robur discreetly touched his sleeves, making sure his two small guns were still inside each. He was prepared for any conflict.

“Show him in!” he heard the group shout in French and he grinned to himself, raised his head just that little bit higher and entered without waiting for the butler.

Only when he walked in he met with a dozen men, not the hundred or so he had been promised. He could see they were armed, but they did not utilise their weapons. Robur turned his head slightly when he heard the door shut and lock behind him.

“I’m glad to see you heard of our meeting, Monsieur Robur,” one of the men said. Robur felt he was most likely to be the leader.  
“I cannot help but feel this meeting is no longer about airships,” he said.  
“Sadly not, though you have nothing to prove in this building. You’re a difficult man to get hold of, Monsieur.”  
“That is usually my intention,” Robur answered, raising his chin.

The man smiled. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Horace LeBlanc. I work for the Government-”  
Robur raised a hand to silence him. “Say no more. My ship and her designs are not for sale.”  
“We do not wish to buy,” LeBlanc corrected him. “Please, follow me to a quieter room where we can speak in private.”

With the doors locked behind him, what choice did he have? He followed him as he walked away with care, making sure the remaining men weren’t up to anything. He was guided to an office where he was offered a seat. He declined.  
“Don’t waste my time.”

LeBlanc inclined his head. “We know about your Island.”  
Robur paused for a moment, reading his face. That was no assumption, but a cold hard fact. He wasn’t going to try and deny it. “And?”  
“There are many members of parliament who would like to remove you from it.”  
“You would find doing such a thing to be very regrettable,” he growled.  
LeBlanc raised a hand to calm him. “However, in recent events, I do believe I have an option more agreeable to all of us.”

Robur clenched his jaw. “And what might that be?”

“I believe you could be of great service to France. We have agents around the world who are trying to escape their relevant country safely with crucial information. Your Albatross could give them the safe passage they need.”  
“Then hail them down a horse and carriage. I’m no ferryman.”  
LeBlanc raised an eyebrow, “Even if it meant losing your Island stronghold? It’s a simple request, Monsieur. I’ll better the deal, you can have full amnesty, supplies and protection, all for saving the occasional agent on the field.”

Robur thought for a while, he had a young son to think about. Armand loved his home, surely a simple enough job like this was worth keeping his son happy? Housed? Safe?  
“And do I get the option to say no to a task?”  
“Occasionally.”

More quiet, more thoughts. Robur studied the man in front of him, looking for even the slightest sign of deceit. “I want paperwork to prove all of this. I’m not having you think you can take advantage of me.”

LeBlanc nodded. “Very well, here’s a fair idea. Go to Dahomey and bring us back a certain individual- you can drop off supplies while you’re there- and when you return, you shall have your binding paperwork.”  
Robur nodded, but really what choice did he have? “Fine. Who is it you ask me to collect exactly?”

“His name is Arsène Lupin. We would very much like to hire him as an agent, although we have been informed that he is injured and does not have long to live. You’re his only chance. Get him back to France, to a Doctor Champeau. I will give you the address and meet you there.”  
“I know the name of Arsène Lupin,” Robur said.  
“As I hoped you would. He’s a world-famous thief. He goes by Romain Alphonse there so you may have to do some digging to find him. Bring him to us, alive, and we shall confirm our deal.”

LeBlanc offered out a hand to shake.  
“I do not expect to be double-crossed, Monsieur,” Robur warned.  
LeBlanc inclined his head. “I’m an honourable man, what I tell you is the truth with no hidden clauses.”  
Robur shook his hand strongly. Time could only tell.

* * *

**Island X, October 2nd**

With Nyctalope and his four companions locked aboard, Robur went straight to Armand’s cabin. The room was small but warm and comfortable. Armand seemed to be asleep, curled up on his side with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. There was a small click as he closed the door. Armand lifted up his head quickly to see who it was.

“It’s just me, it’s alright,” Robur soothed.

Armand let his head drop back down on the pillow with a heavy sigh. He curled up a little more.

Robur came to sit down on the edge of the mattress beside him, with Armand facing him, although at the far side of the single bed. “Are you alright?” He reached across the mattress and put his hand on his forehead, feeling the gentle heat that hovered over him. He looked exhausted, with dark droopy eyes, but he was fighting it.

“I just… can’t relax, if. if I go to sleep...” he mumbled.  
“Nothing will happen,” Robur promised him. “You’re safe.”  
But those words didn’t reassure him anywhere near as much as Robur wanted them to.

“Here.” Robur took his coat and boots off and carefully moved further onto the bed, lying on top of the blankets. Armand inched closer and leaned into him, resting his head on his chest. Robur used his arm like a blanket, covering the top of Armand’s back. He used his hand to stroke his hair, hoping he felt safer and less exposed. “Go to sleep, my boy. I’m right here.”  
“The… the nightmares will come back. I don’t want to be in the room again...”  
Robur sighed, he refused to let himself get angry. That wasn’t what Armand needed. “Well if I’m here, perhaps they won’t. Even if they do, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The Robur heard the engines of the Albatross start up with their gentle purring noise and felt the ship rise into the air. Turner had his orders to start the ship on her journey so he was not concerned about that. They were on their way to get his boy some help.

Armand seemed willing to try sleeping. The noise helped put him at ease. He buried his face into his father’s body, focusing on the feeling of Robur’s chest rising and falling; his heartbeat. Robur kept stroking his hair, hushing him into rest. Slowly, Armand’s body relaxed and went limp as he drifted off into sleep. Robur made no attempt to get up. He closed his eyes and kissed the top of his son’s head. At that moment, nothing else mattered. He held him close and never wanted to leave. 

Soon, Armand began to whimper in his sleep. Robur hushed him quietly, mumbling reassurances. He started stroking his hair again, doing all he could to comfort him. Armand got louder, murmuring for his father, twitching in his sleep. Robur wrapped his arm around him. “Shh, I’m here.”

Slowly, Armand eased into a quiet sleep again. Robur eased out a breath of relief. He tried not to embrace his anger but this wasn’t fair on Armand! Why was he suffering? Robur had only ever joined this damned group to protect his son, and look where it had gotten him! He was a child! He didn’t deserve this, he’d had no part in this mess and yet he’d suffered most. Robur needed to do better, protect him. Everything else was ruined, The mission? Pointless. But he would not let his son go through this alone.

“I’m here, my dear boy. Shhh.”


	42. Mistrust

**Chapter 42 - Mistrust  
** **_The Nautilus_ ** **, Indian Ocean: October 4th**

Skinner hadn’t felt like himself since the rescue of Nemo and Ishmael four days earlier. He couldn't shake the guilt for almost getting Mina killed. The heavy burden of Pavan’s death weighed on him even more so. He should have never let his guard down. If he hadn’t gotten injured then Pavan would have stayed hidden in the automobile. He’d still be alive.

Despite the fact he blamed himself, his anger tended to find an escape whenever Lupin was nearby. He couldn't help it. It was because of him and his gang that the League was out there in the first place. Why did Lupin deserve to be saved whilst Pavan had died? Skinner’s attitude didn’t improve in seeing him trying to worm his way out of trouble by getting the sympathy vote by over-exaggerating his injuries.

Quatermain and Skinner were up top, getting some fresh air. It was very warm and Skinner was dressed, bandaged and painted so it didn’t help his mood all that much. He just wanted to get a bit of air and have a good talk with the hunter whilst he practised his shooting. He’d been cooped up in the infirmary for too long. His wounds were stinging, but he tried not to pay it too much attention.

It was about an hour later that the Frenchman showed his face. Skinner knew Lupin had spotted him staring at him. Lupin went as far out the way of the others as he could and paid them no attention. Instead, he tried to enjoy the warm breeze and the land that was barely visible on the horizon: Madagascar.

“What’s Nemo thinking of, letting him out?” Skinner asked, not caring if he was heard by the subject of the conversation.  
“Nemo trusts him. He also hasn’t done anything wrong whilst he’s been here. Whether you like it or not, it’s Nemo’s choice,” Quatermain explained quietly, firing his rifle and reloading. He was about to call out to the crewman to release another target but he waited, knowing Skinner wouldn’t leave it at that. 

Neither of them saw Lupin jump at the noise of the gun, or how he hurt his chest as he spun around to see the source of the noise. Seeing it was Quatermain, he turned back around, wincing.  
“So you’re telling me he isn’t doing anything wrong?” Skinner frowned.   
Quatermain sighed and stood his gun against the side of the wall. “What are you going on about, Skinner?”

Skinner leaned against the railing, watching Lupin as he massaged his chest gently, hissing as he did so.  
“Allan, he’s just acting, he has to be. You need stronger glasses if you can’t see that. I've cut up my shoulder and my arms but I’m not going on like he is. If Dorian were alive we wouldn’t have him on the ship letting him wander. Why is Lupin so different?”   
“Because Lupin _is_ alive and he _isn’t_ a killer. He’s had seven shades of blue knocked out of him while fighting for his life and almost got his throat slit. He is going to be sore as all hell and will be for a good few days more too. It's not a competition to see who hurts the least, you know? How the bloody hell have you managed to get it in your bloody head that he’s acting?” Quatermain questioned, clearly not really believing in what the invisible man was saying.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. He didn’t want Lupin to overhear him, not that it was anything he wouldn’t say to his face. “I just wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. Ones like him are always up to something, I know what they’re like. They constantly plan things out and everything falls in line with what they want. I'm not going to get tripped up. Someone left the clues that we were able to follow and I’ve a good guess who. If he wanted the mission to be all that peaceful, he wouldn’t have done that. I don’t trust him.”

“And without those clues, we might never have found Nemo in the first place. He’s only here for a week or so then we probably won’t see him again. Don’t try and look for trouble where there is none,” Quatermain grumbled.  
“Hmph, you’ve changed your tune,” Skinner pointed out. 

“I like him and trust him no more than you do, Skinner. But, I don’t think Nemo would appreciate anyone stirring up trouble when Lupin's trying to keep to himself. There are more important things than that to worry about… Look, if you don’t like him then keep away from him. It’s that simple. He’ll be out of our way soon enough.”  
“Well I don’t talk to him, but there's only so far away I can get before I run into him. I’m not going to watch as he tries to be all melodramatic again. I mean look at him! There’s him pretending whilst there’s Pavan waiting to be buried. That's not fair, Quatermain.”

Lupin tensed, his back perfectly straight and his head still. After a moment he relaxed and with a gentle sigh, he pushed himself away from the railing and walked back to the door to go downstairs. The door had been shut, though not fully sealed. The thief had to use his one good hand to loosen it before he faced Skinner. Words were desperate to leave his mouth- Skinner could see it. Instead, he turned away and went downstairs, not bothering to seal the door behind him.

Quatermain went over and shut it gently, he then retrieved his gun to commence shooting.  
Skinner sighed “Quatermain, I’m telling you he’s up to something.”   
Quatermain called for a new target to be released before insisting “Even if there is, I’m telling you to leave the man alone. Unless something definite comes up there’s nothing you can do.”

With that, Quatermain fired his gun.

* * *

 **(*Meanwhile*)  
**  
Lupin forced himself to carefully climb down the ladder, which was much harder with only one functioning hand. He had to hurry. He didn't know how long he had. There, on the top of the Nautilus, he'd seen the Albatross! She was barely a speck in the sky, but Lupin had long since learned how to spot her when he’d been out on a mission. He hoped the others hadn’t seen her yet, but she would overtake the Nautilus soon. Nemo wasn’t going to be happy about that, but it also meant she was in range. He wanted to get a message to them, tell them he was alive and make sure no one else was injured or worse. He knew in the likely case he was caught it would cause trouble but to him, it was worth it.

The further down the ladder he went the more his sprain hurt. Gripping the ladder was proving too sore. He instead wrapped his arm around the ladder to keep himself balanced as he used his good hand to hold on to one of the rungs further down. It wasn’t an easy process or an entirely fast one. He could feel his good hand getting uncomfortably cold against the bare metal.

Lupin had to get away from Skinner too. He didn’t want to say anything to him but the temptation had almost got the better of him. He certainly wasn’t acting at all, in fact, he wished he was just pretending. He was instead trying to act as though his injuries _didn’t_ hurt; that he was not constantly on edge, that every sound, every moment, anything at all that was unexpected didn't startle him.

He did not feel safe on the Nautilus. He expected trouble at every possible moment, for someone to turn on him when glares just weren’t enough yet he would not hide away. But if Skinner wanted him to be up to no good, well he was going to get that wish. He had to talk to Robur, tell him he was alright. He didn't care for the consequences anymore. 

He was almost at the bottom when an almighty bang sounded. It echoed down the ladder and startled the thief when he was balancing with his bad arm. He instinctively brought his arms slightly closer to him but as he did his sleeve slipped off the metal. The next thing the thief knew he was on the floor, hissing powerfully through gritted teeth. Both his chest and his hand felt like they had exploded into flame. He’d landed on his hand. Somehow he did not cry out, he was too shocked to shout. He just gritted his teeth to the point he thought they'd shatter.

“By Jupiter, now I've gone and done it,” he managed, straining his voice as he tried to manage the pain, taking deep but shaky breaths.

Lupin couldn’t get up as he was disorientated and winded. He shuffled out of the line of sight and leaned against the wall, hoping the dizziness would pass after a few seconds. He brought his knees up to his chest as he brought his injured hand closer to him. It seemed the two men above him had not heard him at least. For a moment, Lupin just sat with his eyes closed, waiting for the pain to fade. He had to get up, had to pull himself together as quickly as he could. He didn't have much time if Nemo made the ship dive he could easily lose contact. _Just a few seconds_ , he decided, at least until he could get up without falling. 

* * *

**(*Meanwhile*)**

Nemo was at the bridge, preparing to make the Nautilus dive now the solar panels were charged. Jekyll had tried to insist that he rest but Nemo prefered to keep himself busy. It provided his mind with a distraction. His ankle made things difficult, but he tried to keep the pressure off it when he could.

He knew Quatermain was outside shooting to help pass the time with Skinner. After leaving instructions for the officers to stand by, Nemo decided to go and personally ask them to come inside. A gunshot rang out, which was slightly unexpected but none too much. What did surprise him was the thud and strangled hiss that followed, the groan of pain. 

Walking downstairs with the smallest of limps, instinct drew him towards the conning tower. He was sure that was where the noise had come from, in fact as he approached he could hear heavy breathing. He was right. Lupin sat on the floor, holding himself in pain, and tears in the corner of his eyes, breathing through the pain. Nemo could not help but suspect he had fallen. Why was he even going up and down ladders with his hand in such a state?

“Lupin,” he called quietly, gaining the thief’s attention. Nemo went over to him and crouched down beside him.  
“Captain,” Lupin greeted, though his voice was hoarse. Nemo watched as he tried to get up onto his feet. As the thief rose up from the floor, so did the captain. He made it halfway, but he wobbled and tried to steady himself with his sore hand. It buckled and he fell again. Nemo caught him to slow his fall. His ankle twinged in pain but he did not let his pain show.

“You have pushed yourself too far,” Nemo said quietly as he held out his hand and offered to help, at which the thief could only accept.

Carefully, Nemo lifted Lupin to his feet, being sure not to hurt him further. The captain could not help but notice the weariness and the pain that clouded his eyes so heavily. He tried to hide it behind that infamous smile but it didn’t work this time. “What happened?” Nemo asked.  
“My foot slipped. It's nothing- I'm fine, really.”  
“I very much doubt it. You are not healed enough yet, Lupin,” Nemo scolded. 

“I said I'm fine,” Lupin answered, though a little harshly. He seemed to immediately regret the tone of his speech and looked away with a sigh. “I'm sorry,” he murmured. “This just isn't exactly my finest hour as I’m sure you understand.”

The captain sent him an imploring look; he wondered if something else was troubling him- something beyond that of his fall. The thief did seem to be gradually becoming more irritable as the days passed.  
“Indeed, but I will only believe you’re as fine as you say once Jekyll has checked your wrist. May I help you walk to the infirmary?” Nemo pressed on gently.  
“I'll manage, but thank you.”

Deciding not to push Lupin any further, Nemo allowed him to walk himself. He looked steady enough on his feet at least now. Nemo watched him as he walked to the end of the hallway and out of sight. Nemo knew the thief well enough to know something was on his mind. He didn't know what exactly, but his instinct was too strong to ignore.

Despite how Lupin was fairing, Nemo had to get everyone inside. He climbed up the ladder carefully and out into the open. Quatermain fired one more shot, which destroyed the buoy several hundred feet away.

“Gentlemen, it's time to go below. The Nautilus will be diving in a moment.”

Skinner sighed and went downstairs without a word. Nemo raised an eyebrow slightly in confusion due to his manner.  
“Don't mind him, Captain. Skinner is just... worried. He doesn't trust Lupin and he's got himself worked up over it,” Quatermain said, swinging his gun onto his shoulder.  
“Indeed, he is not the only one who mistrusts him, I have noticed the amount of suspicion on board. I trust Lupin although I suspected such would occur amongst the League… I only hope nothing comes of it.”


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43 - Contact** **  
** **_The Nautilus_ ** **, Continued**

Nemo went after Skinner before he could get too far away from the conning tower. For one thing, he didn't want him bumping into Lupin along the way. Skinner did stop when Nemo called his name, but it was with great reluctance that he followed him back to the bridge.

"Mr Quatermain informed me that you mistrust Monsieur Lupin?" Nemo said. "You think he is planning something?"  
"He will be if he gets the chance. You can't trust him, he's almost killed us at least twice."  
“I understand your concerns over Lupin’s presence on board, and I do not say that they are unjustifiable, but I assure you, he won't cause trouble. But what I ask is for you not to treat him so coldly. He is here because I wished it, and I doubt he wants to be here anymore than you want him to be… Is there a reason why you are being so hard on him?”

Through Skinner's paint, Nemo saw his face falter. “I just don't trust him. Having an enemy free on the ship isn't what I was expecting, especially with all the clues that someone left when you were taken. I told Quatermain the same, that he must have done it and he'll be up to no good" Skinner grumbled. Nemo did not feel like that was the full truth.

Nemo heard the quiet beeping of the Morse code system. He didn't listen to the message as he could read the paper afterwards. First, he wanted to know what had Skinner in such a state. 

“Nemo, what's that saying?”  
Nemo frowned at him veering from the conversation. “It can wait until you tell me what I've asked to know. Has Lupin said or done something that I do not know about?”

Skinner opened his mouth to speak, but one of the crewmen rushed into the bridge.  
“Captain. The Albatross has been sighted to the south. She's travelling fast.” They both tensed.  
“Prepare the ship to dive!” Nemo ordered. Skinner stepped back as Nemo rushed to hide his ship from Robur. 

But the message kept going. Skinner listened hard despite himself. He didn't understand it, it wasn't English. But he picked it up and studied it. He saw enough to recognise it.

"A.L? Nemo, it's Lupin!"  
Nemo left another man at the helm and snatched up the message.

Skinner frowned and picked up the paper to study it. It wasn't like a normal message he'd hear.

“A.L. I'm alive-” Nemo read.  
Skinner growled, “He's talking to Robur!"  
Nemo stood up quickly. “Stop him! I will follow.”

Skinner rushed down the stairs of the bridge and toward the room that held one of the other machines. He hoped that was where Lupin was hiding out. It was closest to the conning tower.  He tried the door, only to find after an inch of movement it stopped.  
“Lupin, open up!” he barked. He heard someone rise from their seat but they didn't grant him access. The message continued, a little faster. Skinner pushed hard, ignoring the way his stitches complained.  
  
The racket drew Quatermain into the hallway. “What's going on?”

Another push and Skinner moved the small bookcase out of the way. He squeezed inside and rushed at Lupin, grabbing him by the collar and pushing him against the wall. Lupin raised his hands in defeat, hissing at the pain Skinner brought to his chest. Skinner also winced as pain scampered across his torso and arms.

Quatermain slipped inside the room after him. “Skinner-”  
“He was contacting Robur. He's had him following us!”

“No, I haven't,” Lupin croaked. “I was as surprised as you to see the ship but since I was in range I had to talk to him.”  
Skinner looked back to the machine. “Quatermain, switch it off for me, will you? I don't think he can track us then without the signal."  
“No!” Lupin exclaimed, pushing against Skinner. “I need to know-” Skinner pushed back harder and Lupin hissed in pain. Skinner was in just as much pain, but he clenched his jaw and tried to use it to fuel his anger.

Quatermain found the right switch and flipped it. Lupin tossed his head back against the wall. He said nothing. They waited in silence as they felt the ship dive at a rapid speed. Quatermain pushed the bookcase back into place, allowing a furious Nemo clear access.

“A.L. I'm alive. Unharmed. Don't follow. Is everyone safe? On way to-,” he read aloud. “What else were you planning on telling him?!”  
“I have to know if everyone is alright. Besides, since I've been viewed with suspicion ever since I got here I thought I may as well justify your opinions of me.”  
After sending a glare in Skinner's direction, Lupin looked through him and onto Nemo's still anger, his clenched fist and the way the other clung to his sword. Lupin wasn’t entirely sure if he’d use it or not.

Nemo broke focus, and looked at the machine. “You switched it off?” he asked.  
“We did,” Skinner said.   
Nemo nodded and switched it back on. 

_ A.L. Repeat. Almost caught,  _ he wrote in French.

“Nemo,” Lupin began, but Skinner pushed him against the wall yet again, a firm way of quieting him.

A message started to come in, at which Nemo turned his attention back to Lupin but he did not rush to speak.  
"You'd have done the same, Nemo, if you had the chance-" Lupin began.  
"Indeed, Only I was not given the chance. Mr Skinner, please confine him to his room. I will deal with this." Nemo gave Skinner the key from his pocket and turned away.

“Nemo, tell me if they're alive. You know there was a traitor amongst us, I have to know if they're alright. That's all I want to know. If you were to let me speak with him I can find learn for certain if it was Nyctalope who was that traitor-”

"Will you shut up and empty your pockets?" Skinner interrupted. "This room was locked to keep you out, how'd you get in?" Lupin sighed and calmly produced a lock pick.  
"That's mine!" Skinner snatched it off him. "Going in my room, you little- Go on, get out!" He marched him down the hallway, twisting his good arm behind his back despite his protests. 

Nemo shook his head and turned his attention back to the machine. He hoped he knew what he was doing.

* * *

**(*Meanwhile*)  
** **_The Albatross_ **

Robur never expected to hear a message from Lupin as he rushed towards France. The League and Lupin were so close, but he heeded Zenith's warning from Nemo. He didn't doubt Nemo would kill Lupin if he thought he was going to threaten the Nautilus. For that reason, he had to keep his distance. Any sort of rescue attempt would be a disaster.

Zenith rushed to Robur's side to inform him that the Nautilus was below them and had just dived. "I know. Lupin sent a message. I fear he was caught sending it."  
"What did he say?"  
"That he's alive, unharmed. He wants to know how we fare and he tried to tell me where they were headed. His message was cut short and I do not wish to reply."

_ A.L. Repeat. Almost caught.  
_ Robur and Zenith exchanged looks. He replied quickly.  _ No deaths in LHM. But wounded. Headed to-  _ Robur paused for a moment, if Nemo ended up reading this…  _ Doctor after Dahomey. You know where.  
_ _ Who is wounded?  
_ _ Armand’s leg. Degains' head from rubble. _

"Don't add me mind you," Zenith said. "He doesn't need to know."

Robur's face fell as the next message came in.  _ I will tell him. Lose my frequency. _

“They caught him,” Robur said slowly. Zenith winced, listening as Nemo continued, 

_ Do not follow or Lupin will pay. I do not jest.  
_ _ Understood. I did not Intend to find you. Do not mistreat my man. He was good to you. _

Nemo did not reply. Robur slammed his fist onto the table. "Damnation!"

"Nemo knows where we are going? Or are we to change plans?" Zenith asked.  
"Not quite. He doesn't know that it was Robert Champeau's father who tended to Lupin's wounds when I first retrieved him."  
"He did?"

Robur nodded, "As I said, there's no denying he's one of the best. We're safe as long as Lupin does not tell him the location. But I also don't doubt Nemo will force his hand. We go to Champeau, and hope Lupin is able to keep the League away."

"Then… Nemo's signal. Will you keep it?" Zenith continued.

Robur looked at the dial that held Nemo's frequency, the key to following Nemo but at the risk of it costing Lupin his life... He turned the dial sloppily until it was lost to him.  
“Admittedly, I have it written down, but I won't search for it unless I need it. I will be true to my word, even if he is not.”

* * *

**_The Nautilus_ ** **, Continued**

Nemo and Quatermain stood in silence for a moment. Nemo had translated the messages as they arrived.

"You think he knew it was us?" Quatermain asked.  
Nemo shook his head. "He would not have told us about Armand. Ishmael and I suspect the boy is Robur's relative, perhaps even a son. Now we have dived and are concealed, I can monitor the Albatross movements until I am sure she is not following us. Once I am certain, I will confront Lupin about Robur's intended destination. For now, I must avoid him."

"Robur or Lupin?" Quatermain asked dryly.  
Nemo sent him a look that clearly read 'both'. This had been too close of a call for Nemo's liking.  
"You really think he'll lose our frequency, that he won't keep track of us?"

Nemo drew a deep breath as he wondered the thought. "I very much doubt it, but as long as he does not approach, then I will not take action. He fears me more than is necessary. I will not hurt Lupin, but as long as Robur does not know that, then we are safe."  
"Do as you think is necessary," Quatermain answered.  
Nemo nodded, "I will need to ask Jekyll to go to Lupin later and check his injuries. He'd fallen off the ladder to the conning tower."

Quatermain nodded as Nemo excused himself to make preparations and find Jekyll. Even on what should have been a simple journey, things were becoming complicated. 

* * *

**_The Nautilus_ ** **: October 6th**

It had only taken a day for Lupin to get used to being confined in his room. He did not regret his decision. At least Robur knew he was alive which put his mind somewhat at ease. Robur would probably be worried, even with all their arguing, and unsure of what action to take. Lupin hoped he'd been able to help remedy that. He may not have learned of the others' well being but it was a start. He wondered what Nemo had told him or if Nemo had any intention of telling him such information. All he could do was wait.

Then there was a brisk knock on the door before it was unlocked and opened. Two of Nemo's crew were there, Lupin recognised them as two French-speakers who had been guarding and feeding him, and Quatermain.

"Nemo wants to speak to you," Quatermain said. "Follow behind."

Lupin pulled himself up onto his feet and cradled his sore wrist. Jekyll had treated it after his fall but using it was still out of the question.

A confident nod and they were off, Quatermain leading the way with a guard at either side of Lupin. He behaved himself as he was escorted up to what could only be described as a conference room. The League sat around the table and he was filled with dread.

"Captain," he greeted slowly, seeing Nemo at the far end. "Madame, Monsieurs."

Nemo rose from the table and approached Lupin. His gaze went down to his wrist. Lupin pulled it closer to him. He didn’t trust Nemo not to hurt it further. All things considered, he could say he deserved it.

Instead, Nemo indicated to a large silver panel on the wall with two arms. "One is us, the other, your Albatross. I want to know where she is headed ahead of time."  
"I mean no disrespect, but for the sake of my own companions' welfare, I cannot tell you that," Lupin answered.  
Nemo produced a strip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Lupin. Morse. Lupin read it, it told him of the condition of the Mysterious Men. Armand came as a great surprise to him. "Sacre bleu," he mumbled.

"What does he mean by ‘after Dahomey’?" Nemo asked.  
Lupin pursed his lips. "If Robur did not tell you then I cannot. I will not risk their safety like you wouldn't risk your League's… why do you want to know exactly?"  
"He's headed in the same direction as my ship. I do not wish to meet him again."

Lupin shook his head. "Drop me at Marseilles as you intended. I swear to you, you won't be anywhere near him. There is nothing to be concerned over. Since you're tracking him, you'll soon see where he is headed. I thank you for this information, but there is little else I can do for you."  
Nemo dismissed him without any emotion on his face. The two guards took him back. Lupin could only frown in confusion and return to his room.

"I did warn you he wouldn't speak," Skinner pointed out.   
"He said enough. I believe he told the truth, that we will not encounter Robur at Marseilles," Nemo said. "I could not expect him to reveal more, just as if we were in his place that we would not speak."

"So what do we do about Robur?" Sawyer asked.  
"We wait. You all may leave now if you wish, although I would appreciate a word with Mr Quatermain. Dinner will be in less than an hour."

Nemo turned back to the silver map which tracked the Albatross. He couldn’t deny a sense of dread that crept up his spine, seeing Robur so close to him. Before he had called for Lupin, he had taken the time to inform the League of his history with Robur, and why he was such a threat. They had known vague details, but at least now there could be no speculation.

“Nemo?” Quatermain enquired.  
“Mr Quatermain, there was something I had been meaning to ask you.”  
“Go on.”  
“Do you imagine you will be reclaiming your place as the leader of the League?”  
Quatermain pulled a face of doubt and shrugged. “Perhaps, but that’s up to the others to decide. Why?”  
Nemo looked up to the map again. “I wish to go after Robur.”

“And kill him?” Quatermain guessed, gaining Nemo’s eye contact.  
“Yes. My ship won’t be safe until he has perished.”  
Quatermain nodded slowly. “These are your ghosts, Nemo. Even if I was the leader, I can’t stop you from making your own decisions.” He sighed with a small smile. “I’m with you, Captain. We all are.”  
Nemo nodded with appreciation shining in his eyes. “Thank you.”

Quatermain left him in peace. Nemo rubbed at the ache in his neck. He had spoken about his past far more than he would have liked to over the last few weeks. He hoped never to have to speak of it again. The League deserved to know, they mattered to him, but it made it no easier. He could not help but feel like they all looked at him differently now, pitied him. He was determined to be stronger. He had to look forward, keep his head held high and deal with Robur rationally. Perhaps their pity and guilt would ease then.

And so the wait began.


	44. Things Just Aren't the Same

**Chapter 44: Things Just Aren’t the Same  
** **Mediterranean Sea: October 16th**

It had been a very long two weeks and two days for Lupin. Another two days and he hoped he would be released as Nemo promised. Once the Albatross had moved out of range, Nemo allowed him to wander the ship, but now he always needed an escort. It may have been incredibly generous of Nemo to grant him that freedom all things considered, but it was frustrating. His extra time to wander around the Nautilus hadn't been too unpleasant, save for the occasional scowl and the whispers that followed him everywhere. The crew were tolerable enough at least, though Lupin suspected Nemo had given them the order to be so. The League was another matter and he did his best to avoid them.

He knew he was a prisoner and far from welcome aboard the ship. It got easier and easier for him to just stay in his room and avoid trouble altogether. Nemo's library, or what was left of it, still held good books for him to pass the time with. His bed was comfortable and his meals were brought to him, which he had to sometimes force himself to eat as he had next to no appetite. He had everything he needed, but frustration and restlessness built up quickly.

It was deserved perhaps after he'd managed to talk to Robur, but before that point, he felt he had been treated unfairly. He was not ignorant as to why he was so disliked, far from it, but he was not fully responsible for everything that had happened either. Lupin tried to sleep most of his anger off but with little result. With every day that passed, every look of displeasure he received, every comment from Skinner aimed at getting under his skin made his method of staying calm work less and less. He was coming to the end of his tether, though he hoped he could hold out for a few days more. He was becoming more and more reluctant to leave his room. None of them understood why he had agreed to help capture Nemo. No one asked and no one cared.

Lupin had been resting when he felt the ship was no longer moving, though he didn’t really know where or why they had stopped. He hoped they were going to drop him off. Even Italy would have been wonderful for him at the moment. The easiest way he knew he could find out was to head to the library and look out the observation window. Had they made it to France early? Despite his reluctance, his curiosity got the better of him and he dragged himself up to see. Besides, he needed a few new books. He knocked on his door and waited for it to open. One of the crewmen stationed outside opened it and he told them where he wished to go.

Lupin was a little surprised to see the small gathering in the library. Ishmael was sitting on a seat near the window and seemed to be watching something sullenly. Mina was sitting beside him. Neither of them spoke. They just stared outside in silence. Looking to his right, Lupin saw a fully dressed Skinner and Quatermain sat at a table with a half bottle of alcohol with them. From here he could not tell which golden liquid it was but he expected it was strong. Lupin tensed his jaw. He knew at once he'd put his foot in it again.

“Well look who crawled out of his burrow. What do you want now, Lupin?” Skinner asked though he seemed to be a little drunk. He sounded upset, so much so Lupin could hardly bring himself to speak.  
“Excuse me. I'll come back later,” he answered.  
“No, no, you should have a look. You should see why we're here and what your oh so magnificent Mysterious Men did,” Skinner said, a little louder than normal.   
“Give it a rest, man. He hasn't done anything wrong. Now isn’t the place nor the time.” Quatermain grumbled to the invisible thief.

Lupin retained his grim expression. He looked at Mina, who didn’t return so much as a glance. She was still looking outside, clearly not wanting to be involved. The thief gave up and could only walk slowly to the observation window, bracing himself for whatever he would see.

As he walked closer, he noticed Nemo’s organ. It had been repaired after the League’s first confrontation with the Mysterious Men, but Lupin had a feeling Nemo wouldn’t have been happy with it. The wooden elements had all been replaced, which, judging by the new carvings on it, hadn’t been an easy task. Lupin was sure it was a different type of wood, not too different in colour, but enough. It made Lupin feel guiltier than he expected an organ to. It had been Nemo’s and like everything else he and his group had come across, they’d destroyed it.

The air was a bit cooler near the glass, so he crossed his arms over the jacket given to him by Jekyll to hopefully keep his chest warm. He found himself feeling the cold a lot easier as he was still recovering. The thief was luckily roughly the same size as the doctor which meant he was able to lend some of his clothes. Jekyll didn't seem to mind that part much at least.

At first, all that was visible to him as he looked was a translucent shade of royal blue. His gaze went to the sea bed and he saw a small party of silhouettes of people- divers from the Nautilus. They looked to be returning to the ship. Lupin couldn't see who was in the suits, though he had a feeling that Nemo was one of them. 

“They have just buried Pavan,” Ishmael explained soberly. “He was one of my closest friends.”  
Lupin gritted his teeth as he tried to push back his anger. So Skinner was still trying to get him to take the blame.  
“I'm sorry. I didn't realise the funeral was to be today,” Lupin answered quietly.

Lupin found he wasn't angry at Ishmael. The first mate had been decent enough and he had a very fair reason to dislike the thief, though even then he wasn't as harsh as what Skinner had been and  _ he’d _ been taken. He understood that what Ishmael did was through grief and even then he was not blaming Lupin directly every single time he saw him. Skinner seemed to be a different story. For one reason or another, his presence repulsed him.

"I'll leave you in peace." The Frenchman turned and walked away briskly, he did not have time to leave. When he was at the doorway he heard Skinner speak.  
“And off he goes to bury his head in the sand, just like the rest of them, little rats.”

With little regard for the time and place, Lupin cracked. He wasn't going to take these insults for any longer, not something like that. He was not going to let Skinner deface the one thing that had given Lupin and so many others something to depend on. Without the Mysterious Men, he would have died a long time ago. That was all he had lived for.

“The rest of them?” he growled. Everyone present seemed bewildered at the fact he had spoken. “You have no right to slander those men. No right!"  
"After everything you've done, I've got every right, you idiot," Skinner retorted.  
" _ Non _ ! Your trouble lies with me and Robur-"  
"You're all responsible," Skinner shot back. "You're a bunch of thieves and killers doing more stealing and more killing. In no way, shape, or form is your group the victim here."

"I have made no attempt to say that we are the victims. I take responsibility for my actions and I have fixed what I can. I have cared for Nemo's welfare to the best of my ability and I am  _ well _ aware of the blood on my hands. Do not speak as though I don’t care-”  
"If you cared that much you'd have let him speak to us so we knew he was alright! You hadn’t been gone a week and had to send a message- how do you think he felt trapped like that for weeks- with him?!” Skinner retorted.

Lupin struggled to keep steady. His two weeks of anger had finally found a way to escape. There was no backing down now but he tried to remember this wasn’t the time or the place. Lupin’s eyes seemed capable of cutting through stone and he clenched his fist. All of his anger found its way into his voice, that sharp heated voice. Quatermain sat up in his chair but didn't say anything, he knew Lupin needed to get this out of his system. It was a conflict that just had to happen. The others seemed to brace too.

“I know how much you have worried about Nemo and Ishmael. I did not even know of Nemo's history with Robur at first until Nemo himself told me. The only thing I was concerned about was saving as many lives as I could by borrowing a month or two of Nemo's time for him to give France the upper hand when she is surrounded by threats. Perhaps if you had asked why he was taken instead of constantly trying to unsettle me, you would understand that."

"What lives was there to save?" Skinner scoffed.

"Hundreds of thousands, maybe millions: soldiers and civilians, allies and enemies! The same lives you fought to protect months ago from Moriarty. I have been in a war, Monsieur. I know what it is like and what it does to you and I will do  _ everything _ I can to stop others from being involved with such. I was responsible for taking Nemo, yes. I planned it, and although it did not go as I expected the blame still lies on my shoulders. So you may say what you will and do what you like to me, but you will not speak of the others. You know nothing about Les Hommes Mystérieux."

"If you were that bothered, you wouldn't have left clues for us to be able to find you.” Skinner shot back.  
"What clues? We left nothing!" Lupin retorted.

“Hm, liars as well as thieves and killers."  
"Yes,” Lupin ground out. “Thieves, killers, and a rumoured murderous captain with a unique ship. Much like your own League, what?"  
"Hey, you don't get to compare us-"  
"Yes, I do, Monsieur, because we are _exactly_ the same! And yet you know nothing about us. So nothing gives you the right to insult and slander the only reason I’m still alive!”

“That’s enough,” Quatermain finally warned.

Lupin stopped himself. He swallowed hard and backed away, lowering his head. "My apologies." Then he immediately exited the library, not giving anyone the chance to speak. His escort could only follow after him. Three pairs of silent eyes fell upon Skinner, he grumbled in frustration before he too left to go to his room.

* * *

**(*A Little While Later*)**

Nemo knew when Quatermain came up to the bridge. He knew when he saw Sawyer following behind him with an expression of confusion clear on his face.  
“Nemo,” Quatermain began.  
Nemo turned to fully face him, “Has something occurred?”

Quatermain nodded, “Lupin and Skinner,” he said.  
“What?” Sawyer asked. “They didn’t start fighting, did they?”  
“Not physically,” he replied. “I didn’t let it come to that.”

Quatermain explained with as much detail as he could. Nemo could only sigh. He’d been expecting this for a while. It was bound to happen. Skinner had pushed hard, and Lupin had snapped.

“I doubt Lupin will be leaving his room again,” Quatermain said.  
Quatermain wasn’t the only one. “I will leave it for today. Tomorrow, I will see what can be done,” Nemo said. “Thank you, for not allowing it to get out of hand. I’ll check on Lupin in a while to make sure he doesn’t do anything foolish, although I doubt it.”  
Quatermain nodded. “It was bound to happen, we’ll leave you to get on.”  
Sawyer followed Quatermain out of the bridge with a sad smile in Nemo’s direction. Nemo took it as some sort of apology.

Nemo wasn’t angry at the commotion, he wasn’t sad or stunned or anything that he could really put a name to. In truth, he didn’t really care. He was too wrapped up in his grief, trying to hide his devastation. He needed to go, he knew where to go to channel out his emotion, to try and ease the pain in his chest.

He went to the library, tight-lipped and taking deep breaths. He opened the door, taking in the sight of the room and his heart sank. The broken bookshelves were yet to have been repaired, the Nautilus didn’t have the materials for them yet. Nemo intended to fix that when he got to France. The observation window worked again, but it had a different handle. His paintings were still all missing, although Sawyer had mentioned to him that there was a detective searching on his behalf. 

But now it was bare, cold, and damaged. He couldn't help but see it as a metaphor for his heart. Battered, broken and in need of mending, healing. Things were never going to be the same. He did not want that change.

Ishmael was sat by the observation window, alone. He covered his eyes with his hand, looking upset and sore. He tried looking out the window, out into the graveyard, but he couldn’t keep his gaze. He turned away. It was only then he noticed Nemo had entered.

“Ishmael,” he said softly. “Are you alright?”  
Ishmael looked up with tired eyes. “I’m fine, Captain. Thank you.”

Nemo walked over to him gently, letting his mask slip just a little. “You grieve?”  
Ishmael nodded, “It shouldn’t have been like that. He deserved better.”  
“He was amongst friends, that would have been enough.” Nemo swallowed back a lump in his throat.  
Ishmael nodded slightly. “I hope so… Please, excuse me, Captain. I. I need rest.”

Nemo helped him out of his chair, but he seemed strong enough to walk back.  “Take care of yourself,” Nemo murmured. 

Nemo watched Ishmael leave, to make sure he was steady enough on his feet. He was satisfied, but now he just wanted to play. He didn’t know what else to do. He approached it with caution, running his hands over it.

He’d spent his free time mending the organ as best he could with the surviving parts. It had been a helpful project in helping him distract himself, but he was still devastated to see it broken, one of the last few pieces of his past life. It’s sentimental value was uncountable to him.

He ran his fingers down the ivory and ebony keys. He’d saved all of them, thankfully, but one had a small chip in it, and he kept running his finger over it, like it would wipe it away. He remembered Janni, so young and innocent, sitting on his knee, watching him play, and occasionally poking the keys down herself. The keys were the same, but the wood was entirely different. He was lucky he’d even been able to find the wood to fix it, to replace all the wooden components. The pieces of wood were smaller than those needed for the bookshelves, so he’d been able to make-do.

He’d kept the occasional chunk of carved wood from the organ. It was locked away in the chest in his room. That box of painful memories.

He sat down at his organ, a mix of new and old that Nemo feared he’d never get used to, but he was willing to try.  The chair felt wrong, ever so slightly different, but he tried to ignore that. The keys didn’t look right, sat against wood they just didn’t belong in, but they would have to learn.

It hadn’t been easy repairing it because of his injuries limiting his movements, especially his hand, and his ankle had affected how long he could stay in one position, but he’d powered through. He’d gotten the cut on his hand dirty more times than he’d wanted to admit and had to clean it every night, not caring much for the pain. It was something physical, and it made more sense than the swirling in his head that constantly plagued him.

But he’d done it. He’d remade it, and it had helped.

He pressed down on the chipped key, and it sounded almost the same. Perhaps he was imagining the difference, wanting it to be different because he didn’t want to replace it. He pressed another key, then another. He let himself sink into the melody, to drown in it. He felt the music, let his emotion pour out of him as he lost himself to the song, pressing down harder on the keys. It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was enough. He felt tears pricking at his eyes as he lost himself deep in thought, in agonising memories.

He barely managed to finish the song before he finally broke down in tears, weeks of pressure finally made its way out and he could not stop it. He covered his face and tried to muffle his pain. If he was to suffer, he wanted it to be alone. 

He was home, but things just weren’t the same.


	45. The Tarnished Hero

**Chapter 45 - The Tarnished Hero  
** **_The Albatross_ , October 6th**

Life trapped inside a cell with nothing to do or expect was more boring than Nyctalope had expected. If his previous times in captivity were anything to go by, then this time he was lucky. No torture came along with this, no panic of going to prison anymore. Just a numb lull and the dread of what was soon to happen. He lay still on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Rene,” he mumbled, glancing to the other bed on the other side of the room to see his friend facing away from him. “Are you still awake?”  
Rene turned his head sleepily, peering over his shoulder in Nyctalope’s direction. “Sure, Chief. Why? Something bothering you?” He sat up and rubbed his eyes.  
Nyctalope couldn’t look at him as he took a deep breath. “I’m going to confess.”

“What?” Rene hissed.

“I’ve been thinking- god what else has there been to do- and… I think confessing would be best.”  
“No. No, I'm not going to let you do that- you're innocent!” Rene stood up, stepping closer.  
“So are you three...” Nyctalope sat up and moved his legs over the side of the bed, but he didn’t look up to see the horror on his friend’s face. “Maybe if I say you didn't know, that I lied to you all… maybe they'll let you go.”

“No,” Rene asserted, squatting down in front of him. “I can't let you sign your life away! There’s still hope. Lupin won’t let us down, I know it.”  
“I can't depend on him. Not anymore, for all I know the League could have killed him. But this? This guarantees your safety, even if it guarantees my ruin. I asked you to come on this mission with me and I can't let you go through this with me too… who knows?” Nyctalope gave a half-hearted smirk. “Maybe Lupin will still be able to save the day.”

Rene was running out of things to say, to do. This was an argument that would go around in circles. “Leo, please. Confessing would guarantee nothing. At. at least don’t speak yet. I'm sure the others won't want to leave you either. Just wait a few days more. Give Lupin a chance, for us, for goodness sake, just give Lupin a chance,  _ please. _ ”

He sighed. “Alright... alright I'll wait.”

The door opened, revealing Fantômas in his mask and a bowl of food in each hand.  “Any news on Lupin?” Rene asked hopefully, standing up and backing away.  
“It’s not my place to say,” he answered.  
“He... he’s alive though, isn’t he?” Nyctalope exclaimed.  
He shrugged. “Honestly, I am unsure. It's… frustrating.”

Nyctalope’s face fell. “Frustrating is an understatement… I’ll never get justice for my father.”  
Fantômas snickered. “You really think Robur was willing to go on a wild goose chase around the world for a parasite like Khan?”  
Nyctalope froze. “He… he wasn’t?”  
“He didn’t want you. He’s said that to your face, why would he go on to help you? Don’t tell me you didn’t know- it’s probably why you tried to kill him!”

Nyctalope clenched his fist but lay back down. Fantômas dropped off the meals and left, shaking his head.   
“I should never have taken up the offer of joining this team,” Nyctalope mumbled.

* * *

**_The Albatross_ ** **, Belgium: September 12th**

Nyctalope couldn’t believe what he was seeing when he woke up to the sound of Tom Turner blaring away on the trumpet, playing the Chant du Depart while to other members of the crew fastened a flag on top of a huge cathedral- the flag of the Albatross. What was Robur doing?!

Rushing from his cabin on deck, Nyctalope headed up the poop deck to find Robur at the helm.  
"What are you doing?" Nyctalope exclaimed. "You're going to get us all in trouble!"  
"Go back to your cabin, Monsieur," Robur said. "This is a quarrel between me and the Government."  
"Maybe so, but there are people down there. We're going to be seen!"

"The last I checked, I was in charge of this ship and this mission,” Robur retorted.  
“This is borderline treachery,” Nyctalope hissed. “This is Belgium- what if they retaliate?! We’re trying to stop a war. What if the League finds out and gets on our trail?”  
“I do think you’re being a touch dramatic, Saint- Clair.”  
“And you’re being a fool and putting your whole Island at risk- Robur, why are you doing this?”

“Keep your nose out,” Robur grumbled, moving the ship away from the cathedral now the flag was placed. “Your leadership is no better than mine, now mind your own business. As I said, this is between me and France.”  
“What does my leadership have to do with anything?” Nyctalope exclaimed.  
“It proves you shouldn’t be here. I don’t know why they insisted you came along anyway- you’re practically a child.”

“Hey!” Nyctalope shot back. “I suffered for that mission and to protect my father, I think that shows I’m dedicated enough to my goals. How dare you try to suggest otherwise!”  
“You got a man killed through your inexperience, and I don’t want that level of sloppiness here.”

Nyctalope bit back his reply, chest heaving and fists clenched. “So you’re doing this to spite France for recruiting me. I thought you were better than that, Robur.” He scoffed, “Well let me tell you,  _ I am here _ ,” he ground out. “We will get this mission done. You will find me Khan, as I’ve been promised, and then you won’t need to see me again.” He walked away before he could get any angrier.

Robur shook his head dismissively and focused on the helm. “Good riddance. You’re nothing but a shadow chasing ghosts.”

* * *

**Bourg-la-Reine, France: October 6th**

Robur drove wordlessly towards Doctor Champeau's address; his gaze often going to his son beside him. He hoped he wasn't too late. The wait to get to France had felt like far too long, even if it had only taken days. Armand was on the brink of fever and admittedly Jean Degains looked no better, if not worse. Robur had little sympathy for Nyctalope and his companions, but it was clear he needed more than a nurse's care and a prison cell to survive.

Robur had left the Albatross far away and out of sight of the citizens of France. No one could no he was here, there could be no reports of airships reaching the League’s ears again.

Another glance at Armand. He slept, although he was restless for some time. Every bump on the road seemed to disturb him. He was a light sleeper which didn't help him rest; every now and then his eyes flickered open. He'd readjust how he sat and drift back off with a hand on his thigh but he had not done so for a while. Robur turned a sharp corner and the boy fell onto his shoulder, much to his surprise, still asleep. Robur took it as a bad sign and he pulled up, carefully moving Armand so he was leaning against the car door. He groaned and tried to wake up. Robur smiled to reassure him. "It's just me. Shh, go back to sleep." He closed his eyes and settled himself. Robur set off again.

Degains groaned as he tried to wake up in the back seat. Champeau was quick to shush him back into a painless rest before he could even open his eyes. Traitor or not, Champeau was good at his job. He'd saved a lot of people on this mission and it seemed only Nyctalope had been responsible for the killing attempts. A thought had been playing on Robur's mind for a while now, and he finally decided to act upon it. 

"Champeau, I have an offer for you."  
"What is it?" he asked gently, checking Jean's temperature with the back of his hand, then his palm as though to be sure.  
"I'm offering you the chance to be free, for you helping Armand and Zenith."  
"And the others? They'll stay- face the courts?"  
"Yes."  
Champeau bit his lip and looked away. "Then, no. I won't walk away from them and leave them to face this alone. We're innocent, Robur. I'm sorry you can't see that."

Robur furrowed his brow. "You won't all be together in prison, you know? You'll likely never see them again. Why waste your life when you could live, help others?"  
"Because I could not live, not with that guilt. I'd rather rot in a cell or die than have that eat away at me. I appreciate the leniency, but it was an offer, and it is an offer I have to decline."

Robur tensed his jaw, "then so be it."


	46. Soothing the Tides

**Chapter 46 - Soothing the Tides  
** **_The Nautilus_ ** **, Mediterranean Sea: October 16th**

Mina knocked on Skinner’s door and waited. Now Nemo and Sawyer were back on board after the funeral and everything had been explained, Mina had offered to speak to Skinner, make sure he was alright and perhaps get an explanation out of him. Hopefully, he’d be more honest with her.  
“It’s open,” he called although he didn't sound too enthusiastic about it.

Mina opened it and found Skinner buttoning the last of the buttons on his coat. “Sorry, Nemo, but- Oh.” He stopped in his work. “You’re. You’re not Nemo.”   
“Nemo is trying to speak to Lupin,” Mina explained. “Although I doubt he’ll have much success. I’m hoping for a better reception here.”

Skinner gave up and sat down on his bed. Mina could still smell the alcohol on his breath, but he seemed to have his wits about him. “Believe it or not I’m not in the mood for talking.”  
“I know,” Mina said softly. “But I need to know what’s gotten you like this. You’re acting cold, Rodney, and harsh. None of us likes to see you in such a way, it’s not you. Please tell me what’s bothering you so much.”  
“Him, Mina,  _ him _ . I can’t stand the sight of him. From the very beginning of this, people have been getting hurt because of him. He’s a self-centred arrogant little prat. Why should I roll out the welcome wagon now he's onboard?"

“Lupin has tried to make amends where he can,” Mina said. “He certainly saved Nemo’s life.”  
“Please don’t come here trying to defend him. It’s not about what he has and hasn’t fixed. People are hurt, inside and out. We’ve all gone through hell and he can’t do anything about that. He shouldn’t have done what he had in the first place. Why am I the only one who can see that?” Skinner answered.

“You aren’t the only one,” Mina insisted but with a softness to her voice. She didn’t want to argue with him. “It’s not like that, I promise you, but Nemo is trying to heal, inside and out, and we are trying to help where we can, but I think you know that… I can't help but wonder if there's more than Lupin that has caused this,” Mina said, sitting on the bed beside him. “And I think I know what that may be… Pavan, isn’t it?”

Skinner let out a deep sigh and looked to make sure his door was shut. He lowered his head and didn’t look up from the floor. “Yeah, I. I guess… The whole fire thing… I tried so bloody hard to fix that, get better and save Nemo and Ishmael, and I still messed up. I technically got you killed, I got Pavan killed.”  
He sighed and looked down. “So, yes, I’m angry at myself, and I’m furious at all of them for getting us in that situation in the first place. And then! Lupin got a one time ticket away and he still caused trouble by luring Robur back toward us. I see his smug little face and I just can’t help it.”

“I understand, I do, but you can’t take out your every frustration on him. These conflicts are affecting everyone on board. Talk to me, talk to one of us, but you can’t let your anger upset your friends. It helps no one and it’s clearly not helping you.”  
“I know, I know,” Skinner grumbled, he amused himself by rummaging in his pocket for his gloves, passing them from one hand to the other, “but none of you see what I see; when Nemo’s by himself and upset or when he’s terrified of losing Ishmael to Robur. Even before it kicked off at Belgium, you saw how much Ishmael was suffering. I hate seeing them like that, and then I see that little… sod, pretending to be hurt and making more trouble and I just can’t help it. I can’t keep my mouth shut.”

Skinner sighed and looked away, “well there’s your reception. I’ll probably relax a little when he goes. At the minute I daren’t turn my back on him in the likely event he’ll try something else.”  
Mina nodded, she reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you. But please, should you see him again, try to be civil with Lupin, for Nemo’s sake. And I think you owe an apology to Ishmael at the very least.”  
“I will. I realised I’d been a right prat back there. I can’t wait to see the back of Lupin anyway.”

Mina made a hm noise, “I expect this is not going to be the last we see of the Mysterious Men.”  
“Me neither, and that’s what frustrates me the most.”

* * *

**Cassis, Marseilles, France: October 18th**

Sawyer knew there would be a fight at some point on the way to France. He was just surprised it had taken as long as it did. From what Quatermain had told him, Skinner had pushed Lupin to his limits by talking even slightly about the Mysterious Men. The Frenchman had snapped. Lupin hadn't appeared since; he had not even left his room for as much as a moment.

No one had wanted to tell Nemo everything that had happened when Sawyer and the captain, along with a few members of the crew had been laying Pavan’s body to rest. Nemo’s reaction was better than Sawyer expected. He was the only one who could speak to Lupin, though the captain could barely get a few words out of him. His meals were still brought to him, though it was found on most occasions that the plate remained untouched. Lupin was blocking everyone and everything out. Sawyer hoped he wasn’t trying to make himself suffer more. Hell, he knew that feeling a little too well.

Mina had already had a word with Skinner about what had happened. No one was mad at him, for the League knew that they had all been just as judgemental and unfair as what he had. When Nemo heard about what happened, he’d gathered everyone together and explained that he needed Lupin to track Robur down. They all knew how much Lupin had done for Nemo and whether Skinner liked it or not, Nemo owed the French thief his life. It was a debt that had to be repaid.

Mina, with Skinner’s permission once he had left the room, had explained to Sawyer and the others that as well as hating Lupin, he felt guilty for Pavan’s death, and that anger had found an escape. Sawyer knew the weight Skinner was carrying on his shoulders. It was strange to think that at the beginning of this nightmare that he had been in Skinner’s position. When Sawyer was able to speak to Skinner, he told him the only man responsible was he who pulled the trigger and Sawyer was sure to make sure that this message got through to him. This was not his fault.

Sawyer decided to try to get through to Lupin before he left the Nautilus. He didn't really know why he wanted to help him, though he imagined it was out of guilt. Nemo had tried to speak to Lupin several times but with little result. Sawyer hoped he could be more successful. He wanted to make sure he was alright at the very least.

Knocking on the door to Lupin's room, Sawyer waited outside for a few moments before he knocked again. Lupin finally spoke up.  
“Who's there?”  
“It's Sawyer. Lupin, I need to talk to you.”  
Nothing.  
“Please,” Sawyer continued genuinely. “I’m not here to cause trouble or lose my head.”

Silence filled the air but finally the door opened to reveal the thief. He wasn't in his usual pristine condition but he was presentable all the same, save for the stubble which was sprouting on his chin. There was a towel resting on Lupin's shoulder which suggested he was just about to shave. He wasn't wearing a jacket, but only his white shirt. Sawyer wondered if he had put it on in haste when he had knocked. Lupin's left wrist was still bandaged up, although thinly. He seemed to be growing used to not using that hand as much when he could help it. He wore a heavy expression as he looked at him, not knowing what to say.

“Can I come in?”

Lupin seemed to know Sawyer wouldn’t give up until he spoke with him. He wordlessly invited him in by stepping back and gesturing with his injured hand. Sawyer entered somewhat awkwardly and Lupin shut the door behind him.

“Please, sit yourself down. What can I do for you?” Lupin asked, though he seemed just as on edge as he was. Sawyer knew what he had to say.  
“Nothing. I've just got three things to say to you,” he explained, accepting the seat offered to him. There was no going back now. Lupin stood facing him with a worn look on his face, waiting for more insults no doubt.  
“Well?” he inquired.

“Firstly, we're almost at Marseilles. You'll be free in less than an hour I think.”  
Lupin seemed immensely relieved to hear the news. “Ah, Capital. I was beginning to think Nemo was sending us around in circles,” he said, taking the towel from his shoulder and putting it on the dressing table.

Sawyer followed the towel with his eyes and found that he had in fact been about to shave. The shaving set was waiting for him. Sawyer found Lupin looking at him curiously, waiting to see what he said next.  
Sawyer just shrugged. “I get that you'll want to get out of here as soon as you can. If you were gonna have a shave you can go right ahead, y’know. There's nothing stopping you.”  
“Ah, thank you,” Lupin answered slowly. Sawyer could see he seemed to slowly relax at realising Sawyer hadn't come to just shout and scream at him.

Lupin walked over to his dresser, where he sat down, applied the foam to his face using a strop brush and took out his razor. He was able to shave quite easily with his right hand and his left no longer causing him as much pain. Sawyer stood up and walked over to him, leaning against the wall beside the dresser and crossed his arms.

“Second thing I want to know is if you're alright.”

Lupin paused in his work, having only shaved the smallest amount of foam from his neck. He looked up at him in mild surprise. Sawyer just looked back seriously waiting for an answer.  
“I didn't expect you to be so considerate. I'm quite alright. I'd just rather stay in my room to avoid any more conflicts,” he answered, deciding to get back to shaving.  
“Yeah well, the fact is you ain't alright though. I'm not gonna ask about it, unless you want to talk that is. Either way, Nemo is worried about you and he knows you’re not yourself.”

Lupin swished the razor in the bowl of warm water, being sure to force himself to make eye contact with him.  
“I appreciate the concern. But I assure you, once I'm back on dry land I will be fine. I suppose you could say it has simply been a stressful few months.”  
“I agree with you there,” Sawyer remarked dryly, watching as Lupin continued to carefully work. He chose not to reply to Sawyer.

“Look, umm… I’m pretty sure you've gotten the impression we blame you for… well, all this,” Sawyer began, itching his lip as he knew he was venturing into deeper water. He had no idea how Lupin was actually going to react.

Lupin hesitated to continue his shave, this time he turned his head away as he slowly resumed. Was that to get a few stray hairs, or to hide his awkwardness?

“It's not a matter of thinking. I  _ know _ I am being blamed. Monsieur Skinner has made that quite clear. After all, I was the one who planned the capture and the League is correct in their judgements to hold me responsible for everything thereafter. It was wrong of me to react in the way I did to Skinner. There's nothing more to say.”  
“Well, I definitely don't think you were out of place with telling Skinner to stop. I think Quatermain was surprised with how long you actually lasted,” Sawyer explained.

“No, Monsieur. Skinner was justified in his reasoning for disliking me. I chose the most inappropriate time to release my anger. That is why I have remained in my room ever since. I'm hardly the most selfless of people but I know that I have been inconsiderate. But saying anything about my group… that was different.”  
“Lupin, you haven't actually done anything wrong- I mean, you sent that message but nothing came of it. I don't blame you for everything,” Sawyer countered.

“You'd be the first.” Lupin realised that the argument was starting to go in circles. “So, what was the third thing you wanted to say?”  
“Actually, I want to thank you,” Sawyer admitted.

Lupin ended up nicking his skin as he jumped. He could not help but smirk slightly as he wiped the blood away from his chin with his thumb. “You want to thank me? By Jove, what on Earth for?”  
“Don't get too excited. It’s about what you said in the library. If you're telling the truth-”  
“Which I am.”  
“If it's right about you trying to stop any chance of war, then your reasoning for taking Nemo is... understandable- far from justified, but I guess I can see where you were standing. Then there’s what Nemo has told us about his time with you. You went out of your way to help him. I've gotta be grateful for that. If it weren't for you, we might have lost him.”

“I did what anyone else would have done in such a situation, there's little need to thank me.”  
“Well, I wanted to. Didn't want you leaving here with a foul taste in your mouth, y’know?”  
“I understand... You should know that, when I get back, I hope to look into the incident with Nemo and Robur. At the moment things are not adding up as they should be,” Lupin sighed.

“What’s there to make sense of? Robur captured Nemo and his family and killed them in cold blood. I don’t think there’s anything else that can be said,” Sawyer pointed out.   
“No. No, you don’t know Robur quite like I do.”   
“Then what am I missing exactly?” Sawyer asked curiously.

Lupin continued to shave whilst he began his explanation. “I have known Robur for about seven years. Seven years is a long time to work side by side with someone almost every day. I know who Robur is, and he is no killer.”  
“How did you meet that long ago? Our League only formed this August.” Sawyer asked. He decided that he did want to know a bit more about Robur whilst Lupin was here. It would perhaps answer some of his own questions.

“A few months before I met Robur I joined the army. As it turned out, the government knew I was away fighting. They left me to fight until they found a use for me later, away from the battlefield.”   
“A use, huh? What was that?” Sawyer asked.

“For you to understand I’d have to start from the beginning- don’t worry, it’s not a long tale. Robur has a habit of showing off his ship to those who believe in ‘lighter than air’ travel, ships carried by gas and the like. But his actions over time revealed to France his name, who he was, how he worked but most importantly they discovered he had the Albatross. Afterall, before the Albatross was built, Robur was a French citizen. Now, in 1882 the Triple Alliance was formed between Germany, Austria, and Italy. It was a promise to support each other should war ever break out. France became surrounded by potential enemies. She needed support, and she needed information to help to keep herself safe.

“To get information, you need spies, which is where I came in. The French were able to trap Robur so that they could persuade him to become their -how do I put this- messenger, I suppose you could say. As I’m sure you know, spying carries great risk and a large amount of time to travel- especially overseas. By having Robur on France's side, the amount of time it would take for someone to travel back to safe ground was more than halved. The Albatross was ideal and immensely improved communications.”

Sawyer had to admit, in his own line of work, having a ship like that to get him out of danger would have come in handy.

Lupin continued “They gave him his mission the very night he sprung the trap. He had to come and collect me... By the time Robur made his way to Dahomey, he was almost too late. I'd been shot. There was only so much the field medics could do to help. He took me back to France where I could heal. Thus I owe Robur and his Albatross my life.

“The French Government asked me to become one of their agents. My rewards, however, were different from that of Robur. They offered me amnesty. Every charge against me would be dropped if I was successful. They knew I wanted to try to leave my days of stealing behind and this was the best way to go about it- providing I wasn't caught and killed. Since then Robur and I have worked closely together for about seven years. He would take me to wherever it was I needed to go and I would get the information for him to take back.

“Then Moriarty came along. I won't bore you with the details that you already know but once the League was made official, France knew she needed to take action. They still weren't sure about what side Britain will take should war break out. Britain and France have been at war with each other for a very long time- hundreds of years in fact, you understand? France asked Robur and myself to get a team together just in case. That was how Les Hommes Mysteri é ux was formed. With the race for arms Moriarty had triggered, France wanted better weaponry and were becoming interested in aircraft. Robur had been working on something for a while but he was not finished designing it at the time. We decided to take Nemo to save time. I wasn’t expecting such a mess to come of it."

By now, Lupin had finished his shave and was drying his face with his towel. Sawyer was still leaning patiently against the wall, waiting for Lupin to finish his story. “It would have been nice if we could have worked alongside your League, but Robur obviously knew Nemo wouldn't do it even if a deal was struck between the governments, not that he told me why. I hope you realise that this really wasn't about Nemo and Robur. I will find out who was responsible for the death of Nemo's family. I know it wasn't Robur. I just know it!”

“To be honest, I don't think it will matter. Nemo and Robur will never get on,” Sawyer muttered.  
“Perhaps not, but if I can clear Robur’s name then I will do it. I owe him that much… But what I would like to know right now is how you managed to catch up to the Mysterious Men and realise it was us who took Nemo.”

Sawyer decided to briefly explain how they had gotten on the trail.

“Not to sound blunt about the matter, but there should have been no way for you to follow us. We never left a flag,” Lupin said.   
Sawyer nodded “You left it on a painting- the Madonna of the Meadow, the painting you left once upon a time. That’s another reason why Skinner doesn’t trust you, he thought you left it.”   
Lupin was taken aback. “By Jove, things are moving quickly,” he muttered to himself.

Sawyer sighed. “So suppose it wasn’t Robur. If he didn’t kill Nemo’s family then who did?”

“This is what I plan to find out. Not only do I owe it to Robur, but to Nemo. I swear I will not stop until I find out who is responsible for it. They will not be getting off lightly with what they have done.”   
“Even if it turns out it is Robur?” Sawyer asked seriously.   
“ _ Especially _ if it is Robur.”


	47. Meltdown

**Chapter 47 - Meltdown  
** **Bourg-la-Reine, France: October 18th**

Robur had never been so grateful for the Albatross and the speeds she was able to ascertain. His ship had without a doubt saved Armand’s life, and likely Jeans too. Robur had been forced to truly test his ship’s potential to get there as quickly as he could. The ship’s top speed was one hundered and five knots or about one hundred and twenty miles per hour. They made it to Bourg-la-Reine, a little way out from Paris, within four days. 

When Robur first took Armand to Robert Champeau’s father’s practice, the captain made it very clear to Robert not to mention what had been going on. Robert had no intention of doing so and said his father respected privacy and confidentiality- he was a doctor after all. 

Robur was not going to risk losing these criminals- they would pay for what they had done, just as the League would receive the consequences of their actions! Champeau had had his chance of freedom and thrown it away, the others would not get such a chance. For the League? Robur wanted blood- especially if they had harmed Lupin in any way. He already wanted their heads if it had been them who had hurt Armand.

Armand and Degains had been staying at the practice for about two weeks. Just as Robur had been told, the elder Champeau was truly a skilled physician who managed to save his son. However, had it not been for Robert’s initial work on the wound, the results would have been very different. The boy had healed brilliantly and could already walk with a crutch.

The old doctor was confident that Armand would with work and patience, be able to walk without hardly a limp eventually due to the angle the bullet had gone in at. Nothing vital had been damaged; it was mostly a flesh wound. Armand had mainly needed medicine to fight the fever. Truly, it had been Degains that needed the help the most. He was doing well, all things considered, but Robur didn’t pay him too much attention. 

The news of Armand was the best Robur could have hoped to hear. The dread that had weighed on his shoulders was finally gone. He never wanted to have to repeat the experience again. It had been far too close of a call. The slightest thing could have changed everything. As he sat watching Armand begin to wake up that day, he struggled to repress a shudder at the thought.

Robur had stayed with Armand for the majority of his stay in France. He left Turner in charge of the Albatross. He was therefore greatly surprised to find that, on what was to become Armand’s last day of staying there, Turner left his post to come and find him. Armand had just gone back to bed to rest his leg when Turner arrived.

“Turner,” Armand beamed.  
“It's good to see you looking well, lad,” Turner replied, equally pleased to see him.  
Robur noticed the first mate’s chest was heaving. Why was he so out of breath?  
“Is something wrong?” Robur asked from his seat near his son.  
“I'm not sure, Mr Robur, we just received a message over the telegraph from Lupin. He's alright. He said he had been released at Marseilles,” the first mate reported.

“Did you say where we were?”  
“I just said we were on the continent. Nothing specific.”  
“Good, for all we know the message could be Nemo’s work again. Best to remain hidden. I don't believe for one moment they would simply release him, not after what they've proved themselves capable of… We have to get after them before we lose the trail,” Robur explained, his voice felt to be cast in steel.   
“I'm afraid I have nothing certain to prove that he did send the message. Shall I go and fetch the Albatross for you, Captain?”  
“Yes, thank you. Drive the car there for quickness.”

With a brief nod, the first mate was gone.

Robur looked at Armand, whose face was caked in worry. “It seems we will have to leave shortly. I'll have to find the doctor-”  
“Da, do you think Monsieur Lupin is alright?” Armand asked quietly.  
Robur sighed as he stood up. “I don't know, son. But we're going to go and get him now. Lupin can look after himself well enough. Keep cool, my lad. The League will answer for everything.”

With that Robur left to find the doctor, to check he could safely take Armand and Degains with him. He didn't want to leave Armand alone in this place and Degains couldn’t be trusted.

Robur tensed his jaw as he walked. He could see what was going to happen. It was as certain as day fades into night. This was going to be a fight for justice. A battle for survival... This was war.

* * *

**_The Albatross_ ** **: Continued**

As soon as Robur made it onto the Albatross with Armand and Degains, he had the ship head to Montpeiller to find Lupin. He did not dare go to Marseilles straight away in case it was a trap, but he was not far away. Robur knew most of the thief's lower level, less-visited hideaways, including those at Marseilles. If Lupin had in fact been released then it would take less than an hour to get to him.

The captain sat himself down at the telegraph and tried to get into contact with Lupin himself. It took a good many attempts until there was actually a reply. Not for a moment could he believe that Lupin was alright and safely out of Nemo’s clutches. Nemo was a madman; Robur knew all too well what he was capable of. To have his second in command, well, he was sure Nemo would use that to his advantage.

Robur paid close attention to the thief’s reply:

.. -- / .... . .-. . /

…. .- ... / - …. . .-. . / -... . . -. / .- / -.-. .... .- -. --. . / --- ..-. / .--. .-.. .- -.  
(I'm here  
Has there been a change of plan?)

Robur thought hard as he opted for a way to test the sender's genuinity.

.. / .-- .- -. - / .--. .-. --- --- ..-. / .. - ... / -.-- --- ..- /

.. -. / .-- …. .. -.-. …. / --- .-. -.. . .-. / -.. .. -.. / .-- . / --. .- - …. . .-. / .-.. …. --  
(I want proof its you  
In which order did we gather LHM?)

Lupin's answer came quickly:

\--.. / ..-. / -.  
(Z F N)

Robur decided that was enough proof for the time being. Had the League been in control of the messages, Lupin could have very easily told them an incorrect answer. He sighed; his fears over Lupin's welfare diminished slightly. It did not, however, prevent his plans for revenge against the League. They shouldn't have taken him in the first place. Besides, how did the thief end up unconscious as Zenith had told him? He was fine the last time Robur had seen him. Their actions were inexcusable.

\--- -. / .-- .- -.--  
(On way)

The captain then left the cabin wordlessly, preparing to tell the Mysterious Men to prepare for the grim battle that would await them.

* * *

**Marseilles, France: Continued**

It was nearly six o'clock at night when Robur arrived to collect Lupin. He was waiting for them and let them into the detached house. Fantômas and Zenith were with Robur and also headed inside. No words were exchanged until they were behind closed doors, safe from prying ears. It truly was a relief to see Lupin in one piece.

“Armand and Jean, how are they?” Lupin asked as the door clicked shut.  
“Both lucky and recovering well,” Zenith answered.  
“Well, that is a relief at least.”

The kitchen and lounge, where the group of men were speaking, were a good size, and they seemed bigger as there was no full wall separating them, only a very large doorway which helped to make the house more airy and comfortable. Lupin opted to sit down. He struggled to try to itch his hand through the bandage. With a grumble he undid the bandage so he could massage the itch instead. Robur furrowed his brow in concern and came over to him to inspect it.

“It appears you've gotten yourself into a bit of a scrape,” Zenith observed as he sat down on a kitchen chair. Fantômas leaned against the doorway in between the two rooms, crossing his arms impatiently.   
“Pah, it is only a sprained wrist. It’s getting better. I’m just trying not to knock it.”   


“Did Nemo do this to you?” Robur asked, gently guiding his wrist up toward his face for him to inspect. He could still see the faint bruises, but other than that it looked far better than it was.  
“What? No, no, of course not. Upon my word, he hasn't laid so much as a finger on me, which is surprising all things considered. There was a cave-in at the fortress and I became trapped amongst the rubble. The League had nothing to do with it,” Lupin answered.

Robur eventually yielded, letting go. “It’s good to see you again,” he smiled.  
“Yes, I’m glad to be back,” Lupin answered, moving his wrist around slowly, to help with the movement.  
Robur backed away, standing close to the brick chimney, underneath which was a purring fire. The flames gave an ominous glow to his face.

Lupin opted not to speak of the attack which had caused the bruises and cut on his body. Saying Nyctalope had attacked him would seal the young man’s fate. Lupin couldn’t help it. He simply could not convince himself to admit that Nyctalope was guilty. He wanted to be absolutely certain first. What Sawyer had told him on the Nautilus had planted a few overwhelming doubts in his mind. He had his suspicions.

“Then… why did the League take you?” Zenith wondered out loud.  
Lupin opened his mouth to speak but Robur interrupted, “It doesn’t matter. Lupin, you need to get yourself ready. We have to fight the League.”  
“What?” Lupin shot up from his seat and stepped toward Robur with wide eyes. Robur put his hands behind his back and broadened his chest as he approached.

“Have you gone mad or are you simply wanting to get us all killed?” he exclaimed.  
“It has to be done. This is a matter of attack or being attacked. We need the advantage,” Fantômas pointed out quietly.

“We need an awful lot more than an advantage! There is hardly any chance of us succeeding against the League- all of us here know that. It's suicide, not to mention the position it will put the British and French governments in. We're trying to stop a war, not cause it,” Lupin argued. He had firm control over his frustration; he felt himself to be more amazed at their stupidity than anything else. He couldn’t believe it.

“This isn't about any government anymore. Nemo won't rest until I'm dead. The only chance we have is to catch them unawares,” Robur explained, standing up that little bit straighter. “No one is going to start a war over an old feud.”  
“Of course they would, you’re attacking what is essentially English property and civilians. I'm currently trying to prove your innocence and fighting will not strengthen your case,” Lupin replied.

Lupin stood a few feet away from Robur. For a moment he was silent, assessing the man who held himself with such relentless vigour. “But… there's something else isn't there? Another reason you want to fight- that's why you were already in France, yes?”  
“The League shot Armand. We had to take him to Champeau’s father to heal,” Fantômas explained coldly.   
“What?!” Lupin exclaimed, turning to face the assassin. “You only said he was wounded- and you’re absolutely sure it was they who did this?”

“I’m certain. I saw the League leaving and then heard the shot,” Fantômas reported.  
Lupin paused. “So you didn’t actually see the shooting itself?”  
Robur shook his head and grumbled, “What is it you’re trying to suggest this time, Lupin? For once can we not make the obvious assumption?!”  
“No. What reason would the League have to shoot a child as they’re leaving?” Lupin answered simply with a shrug.

“I have reason to believe that Nemo knows Armand is my son. It will have been for revenge without the slightest of doubts.”   
Lupin started pacing, fascinated by the bandages on his hand. “That is where I struggle to believe this accusation. Nemo may very well want revenge, but he would not take it out on the boy. It’s you he wants revenge against. He’s… direct like that. Even then, some of the League have children. They would not allow it, and they certainly wouldn't have left him alone if they'd seen him in such a way.”   


“Lupin, Nemo is unpredictable. He killed  _ thousands _ in a bid to take his revenge against the British. He isn't as sharp as he once may have been. His mind is unstable, surely you're not telling us that you think that Nemo  _ wouldn’t _ do this if the opportunity arose,” Fantômas tried to reason.  
“Well, I can't say I believe he would try to kill him. I've grown to know how Nemo works, I don't think he, or any of the League, would shoot the boy- not after he has lost his own child. Besides, why would he save me and then shoot Armand? I’m second in command, I took him in the first place. It's illogical.”

“As I said, he’s unpredictable,” Fantômas said.   
“No, what you mean is you don't have a sufficient answer so you're hoping old rumours and brief excuses will make up for it,” Lupin argued with heat snaking its way into his voice. He just knew Nemo would not do such a thing, and even if he did the rest of the League certainly would not have left Armand to bleed out. He knew some of the League had children of their own.

“Lupin, are you with us or not?” Robur asked impatiently.  
Lupin shook his head. “No. Not like this. There are other ways to go about this.”  
“Such as?” Zenith inquired.  
“Just let me speak with them. I can-”  
“No, Lupin. Not this time. You’ve barely survived the last run-in,” Robur cut in.

“Oh, and give me one good reason as to why not? Why risk lives if there’s a chance I can prevent it?!”  
“You really think the League will be willing to talk without violence? Not only that, as I said before the explosion on the Island, you aren't yourself. I cannot risk it.”

“Though you may disbelieve it, I have already solved the majority of this case. Nyctalope did not attack any of you. He was framed,” Lupin argued, ignoring the points Robur presented in front of him.  
“Then speak,” Robur said, looking somewhat amused by Lupin's efforts.  
Lupin opened his mouth to explain, meaning to ask if Nyctalope had a cut on his jaw once the League left. Something seemed to physically stop him.

Fantômas was staring at him, his hand was wavering towards his gun, just out of Zenith’s line of sight and Robur wasn’t facing him.

Lupin couldn't shake himself out of it. He couldn't take his eyes off the gun and the finger that was tracing its way across the handle. Fantômas did not look away from Lupin.  
“Well?” Robur demanded.  
Lupin had to think of a plan and think of it fast. There was one scheme, which required no slim degree of cunning. It meant, for this circumstance, he needed to appear to lose himself again. He actually needed Robur to think he was unwell. There wasn't much choice. He had to try. 

Of all things, he began to laugh. “Nevermind that, it has just become clear to me that the idea would not be plausible. Too much time has passed. Perhaps I am losing my touch as you say. However, I'm not spent up yet. The veil has been lifted on another matter. I know why you’re planning to fight the League. It's not because you need to at all… it's because you want to, don't you? You can't help yourself, you see. You want to fight!” At the final exclamation in Lupin's statement, the silence hung in the air like mist.

A glance at Fantômas told him that his hand had moved away from his gun. He was in the clear.  
“Fantômas, would you be so kind as to go and get your man to bring Nyctalope in here?” Robur instructed, oblivious to Fantômas's discrete threat. Fantômas sent Lupin a dangerous glance and wordlessly left the room.

“What's gotten into you, Lupin? You told me yourself that once you start a mission there's no going back, so why can't you just see sense? We must fight the League. It's our only chance,” Zenith implored as Fantômas left.  
“And at what point did you abandon common sense and agree to Robur's personal vendetta, which will only prove to get us all killed?” He threw his hands in the air. “This isn't part of the mission, Zenith; the mission failed. It's finished. This is Robur wanting to get back at Nemo and the League whilst he has us to help him and not caring for the consequences,” Lupin retaliated, beginning to let more irritation show. He had to take it steady.

“That is not true!” Robur retorted.  
“Is it not?” Lupin pressed on.

Zenith was unable to produce a reply and surrendered to silence. Lupin had to be very careful; this was a game of chess and by all the gods he had to plan this out correctly. Lives would depend on it, perhaps even the prevention of any world war. The stakes couldn't have been higher if he tried.

Fantômas then entered with one of his men, a giant of a man, with ragged brown hair. His strength looked more than enough to compete with that of their prisoner. Nyctalope looked worn out and tired, but he wasn't hurt. There was no cut on his cheek, not even the slightest mark on his face from his ring where Lupin had punched him during their fight. Nyctalope was indeed innocent. 

Nyctalope did not fight against them, but his face seemed to come alive again after seeing Lupin. There was no scowl at him still being alive, no grimace to suggest he was guilty, just pure relief, so much so Nyctalope stopped in his tracks for a moment. His hands were bound behind his back with a rope in a way that was impossible to escape from.

“Lupin,” he whispered, though to Lupin it sounded more like a whimper. It did not escape his notice: he was frightened. Lupin couldn't blame him, he himself felt uneasy.  
“Ah, Leo. It’s good to see you. You're unhurt I trust?” he said gently, hoping his tone was able to ease some of his anxiety.  
“I'm... fine,” he muttered, clearly able to pick up on the tension that hung in the air.  
Lupin didn't look at the boy, he only focused on Robur. They stood staring at each other. Lupin's eyes were enkindled in a fire, for all a sly smirk played a trick on his lips. He hoped he had calculated everything properly, otherwise, this would carry tremendous risk. He knew Robur better than anyone, he knew how far he had to push.

“Sit down,” Fantômas demanded, harshly pushing Nyctalope down with his back against a wall.  
“There is no need for you to push him. He's not retaliating and I won't allow such mannerisms in my house,” Lupin warned.  
Nyctalope grunted as he slid down the wall and landed on the floor but opted to stay quiet. He stared at Lupin, biting his lip. Fantômas didn't so much as flinch at Lupin's retaliation, though the thief imagined that he sneered under his mask.

“Robur, how far through have you actually planned this out?” Lupin continued, turning back to the captain. Gradually, he had to let his anger seep out. It was like pouring water from a jug, he allowed it to trickle- to gradually slip out. He couldn’t just turn it upside down and let it all fly at once. Snapping immediately would do no good. He needed the correct reaction.  
“All the way to the end,” Robur answered boldly.

“So just how are you going to fight the League? You're out powered, outgunned and quite frankly outwitted. How are you going to be able to defeat Mrs Harker and Mr Hyde? Harker is practically immortal, Jean, or did that escape your notice?” Lupin pointed out.  
“Practically,” he stressed. “She has weaknesses like any other. We're prepared for the conflict.”

“And how do you intend to get to that conflict in the first place? Do you think the League are going to allow themselves to be taken by surprise? By Jove, they might not be as intelligent as I, but they're not fools.”  
“Again, we have already thought of a solution to that problem.”   
“And that's where we need you,” Fantômas added.

“I will not lure them to their planned deaths! Robur, you are blinded with hatred and a need for revenge against people that have done nothing unreasonable, there is little more to say. There is no possible version of this in which you come out victorious, that's if you even make it out alive. For once, put aside your arrogance and listen to me instead of-”  
“Be careful with your words, Lupin,” Robur glowered.  
“I will say exactly what needs to be said if it means you will listen to me!” Lupin shouted.  
“I am coming to the end of my tether, Lupin. You're either with us or against us. Whichever option you choose, you are not stopping us from carrying out our task. It's already been decided.”

Lupin stepped closer to Robur until he was inches away from his face.  
“I will not side with you whilst you choose to try to kill those who have done nothing wrong. The only way you'll stop me is if you tie me up in a sack and leave me here with Nyctalope. I will not let you do this.” He eased and stepped back. “What about Armand- have you spared a thought for him? You're the only family he has left! If you die then what? Robur, he needs you for goodness sake.”  
“Do not try to use Armand as a weapon against me!” Robur snapped. “I fully intend to come back alive.”

“It’s a massive risk that you’re a fool to take! If you fight the League then you will die. One shot from Quatermain, and that will be it. Do you quite know, Jean, I'm beginning to greatly understand Nemo’s view of you? He was right. You haven't changed a bit. You’re still that bitter, thick-headed,  _ selfish  _ oaf!”  
“And you are still that deceitful, sulky, interfering shadow, who does not know when to give in,” Robur barked.

Though the insult took Lupin by surprise, he forced himself to hide the hurt which ricocheted into his chest. Lupin instead swallowed hard. Those words that came from Robur were genuine… Lupin's weren't. They were only an act to annoy the captain.

“I may be guilty as charged, but I will not be swayed. Nyctalope is not the traitor and the League would not stoop so low as to hurt a child... According to Nemo, that's more your area of expertise,” Lupin growled, refusing to break eye contact with Robur. Lupin knew he was really starting to hit Robur hard. Out of the corner of his eye however, he could see that Fantômas was quite enjoying himself. He held himself with more energy as he eagerly waited to see what would happen next.

There was a tense and anxious wait, each man assessed one other. Robur kept his head held high, whereas Lupin tried to stab him with a dangerous glare.   
“Get him out of my sight before I do something I regret,” Robur ordered through gritted teeth.

Fantômas did not need encouragement. He took Lupin by the arm, pulling him away from the conflict. Lupin at once tried to snatch his arm back, though unsuccessfully. Fantômas’s man immediately helped, taking hold of his other arm. There was little Lupin could do but that did not matter. Robur's next order would determine if he had played his turn correctly.

“Bind him. He can stay here with Nyctalope until we get back. Take them both up to the study,” the leader of the Mysterious Men continued.

Lupin breathed freely, though he was sure to make it look as though he was annoyed. It had worked. He hoped the rest of his scheme would also work. Zenith left the room to get some rope from the car in which to tie Lupin’s hands behind his back. Zenith decided to remain relatively neutral, merely doing as ordered.

Lupin didn't bother to fight as his hands were soon bound tightly by Fantômas’s man. He just allowed it to happen, it did not matter, but it drew a wince as the rope pressed against his sprain. Instead, he continued to stare at Robur, in a bid to prove his false anger, but acting angry in this situation came to him very easily. 

Once secure, Fantômas roughly grabbed him by the shirt and led him upstairs into the study. This was the room which contained the telegraph which Lupin had used to communicate with the Mysterious Men only hours ago. The study also contained a few bookshelves, as well as Lupin’s sturdy writing desk. Upon one of the walls was an expensive piece of art, one of which he could not yet bring himself to sell.

“Don’t think I didn’t know it was all you,” Lupin muttered as Fantômas pushed Lupin down onto the floor. Lupin looked hard at him. The mask hid so much of his expression that the thief wanted to pull it off with his teeth. He wanted to see the face beneath that cold, dark concealment.   
“Speak a word of it in anyone’s presence and I will shoot every person in this house. You’ve lost, Lupin. This time, take it lying down. It might just save your life,” Fantômas answered, tying a rope around Lupin’s ankles tightly.

Fantômas remained crouched beside him for a moment, chuckling as he looked Lupin up and down. He then slapped his cheek lightly a few times in dismissal. Finally he left to collect Nyctalope. Fantômas was replaced by Zenith, who came to find the telegram. He started searching for a frequency on the machine.   
“You’ve really gone and put your foot in it, Lupin,” Zenith remarked dryly, though he did not look at him.   
“As I’ve already told you, I do everything for a reason. Zenith, are you still with me?” Lupin whispered almost silently.

Zenith turned away from the telegraph and looked at him cautiously.   
“Zenith, trust me, please. I give you my word, I know what I am doing. Surely you understand what I’ve said. People will die if not,  _ please. _ I know the truth.”   
Zenith thought for a moment, but sighed and eventually nodded. Lupin smiled and winked in reply but the sound of heavy footsteps made him lower his head as he feigned defeat. 

“Zenith, is the telegraph working?” Robur asked as he entered the room.   
“Quite so. Did you find the signal?”  
“I did. It’s a good thing it was on those blueprints, or else I’d have had more difficulty.”   
Robur went over to the telegraph and began to try to get into contact with someone else. Lupin had a fair guess as to who. The captain was trying to trick the League by hiding behind Lupin’s name.

Lupin listened hard to the rhythmic beeping of the machine, silently translating it in his mind. Robur was telling the League to meet him in Dover, that he was in trouble, and that he had found out new information. It made for tempting bait. However, Robur stopped when he was almost at the end. It made the message seem so much more desperate.

After a calming breath, Lupin sighed loudly, almost cheerfully.

“How very cunning indeed… Well I know when I am beaten. However, Zenith, if I were you I would retie my hands. Even a child could unpick this knot- mind the wrist though,” Lupin remarked, with a good hint of sarcasm.   
Zenith looked over to Robur who grumbled “Damn that attitude of yours! Check that the ropes are secure. I won’t have him interfering.”

Zenith crouched down beside him and inspected the knots. As Zenith did so, Lupin managed to tap morse code onto his wrist, it was only a few words but it was enough. Robur was unaware of the silent communication as Zenith refastened Lupin’s bonds.

As soon as he was finished, Zenith backed away. Lupin made himself comfortable and closed his eyes as Nyctalope was led into the study. Fantômas made him sit down again beside Lupin and, also tied Nyctalope’s ankles together.   
“Robur, before we go anywhere I want a cigarette,” Zenith said with a yawn.

“Would you be so kind as to smoke it outside? You’ll damage my painting with the smoke,” Lupin requested, though he didn’t open his eyes.   
Zenith sighed at Lupin's attitude and left. Robur decided to follow him, no doubt for a cigar. They both went downstairs and outside, judging by the sound of shutting doors.

“Well, Fantômas. Alone at last. Anything you care to say in front of Nyctalope?” Lupin asked placidly. He seemed a different man to what he was only minutes ago. It was all an act- an act he was now able to dilute, though not completely drop just yet.   
“Very well, Lupin,” Fantômas snorted. “The game is now over after all. There is nothing that can be done about it. Lupin was right, Saint-Clair… It was I all along.”


	48. Treason

**Chapter 48 - Treason  
** **Continued**

Fantômas remained still, grinning at Nyctalope and Lupin's helpless state. Nyctalope was wriggling and trying to squirm out of the bindings, though it was futile. Lupin sat still, though his fingers were trying to trace along the rope to figure out how he was tied. The rope was hurting his wrist, but Zenith had done a good job with them.

“Well, there we have it. I was right after all. It was you from the very beginning, including the attack twenty five years ago. You were the one who slaughtered Nemo and Ishmael's family,” Lupin summarised icily.  
“Well done, Lupin! Though it took you much longer than I thought,” Fantômas jibed. 

Fantômas pulled up a chair and sat facing the two men, who were still stuck on the floor.  
“I think for young Leo's sake you should explain this from the beginning. After all, you have the time; Robur is a slow smoker, especially as I annoyed him so much,” Lupin pointed out.

“Yes, I suppose you have earned your answers. Besides, the two captains’ time is drawing rapidly to a close. By the time the truth is revealed I will already be gone. At least if I tell you then you can tell the entire story for me... Over twenty five years ago, I became a criminal- an assassin... and very useful for the British. They caught wind of Nemo being taken by Robur a few years after the capture actually occurred. They asked me to go and take action to stop Nemo and Robur becoming allies and offered me a very handsome sum of money for it. 

“By the time I arrived at the Island, the Nautilus was almost fully built, but I could see Nemo and Robur were far from friends. I decided to make sure however as I knew Robur’s intentions of attacking London and Nemo’s hatred for the British. Britain feared what Nemo would do for revenge over the death of his parents, you understand?”

“So you butchered four innocents so that Nemo would hate Robur, which then almost got Robur killed in its turn?” Lupin clarified.  
“Precisely- and it mainly worked. I thought that was the end of that mission and I soon forgot about it, but then I was approached again. You, Lupin, as well as the very man I thought was dead came to ask me to join the Mysterious Men… Then things got interesting,” Fantômas grinned.

“Tensions have been rising between Germany and Britain as we all know. That was Moriarty’s fault. France is geographically and morally stuck between the two and does not know which nation she should side with. After the League was made official by the British government, Les Hommes Mysterièux was made in case France sided with Germany and the League attacked. Now, you can imagine Germany's unease at this. What can she do without her own League? She destroys the very weapons that threaten her.”  
“So Germany wants you to split the League and Mysterious Men up? Keep us as enemies?”Nyctalope guessed.  
Fantômas nodded silently. “Not only that but cause Les Hommes Mysterièux itself to fall. That way, Germany would be far safer.”

“Why would you want to protect Germany?” Nyctalope asked carefully.  
“They offered me a bigger payload and a place for me to retire. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Fantômas waited for a moment and continued “How else was better to break both sides apart than to strike at the most important members of each group- their leaders? I already knew who they were and how their heads work. The rest was just lining everything up. And so, I accepted the new mission.”

"Pah, what do you care for missions?" Lupin spat.

Before Lupin could even consider what had happened, Fantômas, surged forwards like a bird of prey, pinning him to the wall by the throat. Lupin struggled helplessly against his restraints as Fantômas tried to choke him.  
"It's all in the thrill, Lupin," he muttered in his ear.   
“Let go of him!” Nyctalope hissed, trying to free himself again to help.  
Fantômas snickered as he released him and sat back down. Lupin coughed as he tried to catch his breath. Fantômas had wanted to rattle the thief and it seemed he had done a satisfactory job at it.

For a moment there was an uneasy quiet, but Nyctalope wanted to know more. “So you framed me?” he snarled.

“Of course. I had to keep the scent away from me somehow. It’s a curious thing, Jekyll’s potion. A few sips and the creature within is released. I deliberately set out to injure Nemo. I knew of Lupin’s mistrust and that he would not let me near Nemo whilst he was healing. In short, this bought me time, precious unsupervised time. For each of you, I collected a weakness - a motive! Zenith was easy; all I needed was opium, though I could get him to dig his own grave very easily with him feeling like an outsider. Nyctalope’s pressure point was a little more expensive. I borrowed the plans from the original thief, Sadi Khan, so I could pretend Robur had bought them-”

“Where are they now?!” Nyctalope demanded.  
“Back with their owner. I only rented them so to speak. They are long gone Saint- Clair. You won’t be getting those back.”

Nyctalope ground his teeth together to the point he thought they'd shatter in trying to restrain his intense fury. Fantômas smirked as he continued. “Ha, and then there was you, Lupin. You were a difficult one indeed. I found where Victoire lived very easily, should I have required leverage from you, but I could collect little else. Luckily for me, you did all the work yourself. Your defending Nyctalope worked brilliantly in my plan.”  
“Glad I could be of assistance,” Lupin said almost cheerfully.

“Still, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to frame you- or Zenith really for that matter. You’re both too experienced- too clever. Then, of course, there’s the inconvenience of you not killing. Nyctalope on the other hand, so new to the world of crime that I thrive in, was perfect! Robur knew your thirst for revenge, Nyctalope- the darker streak in you. I can see it very well… Deep down, you are as cold-hearted as I. You play the role of hero, but I can soon see you changing your tune. You're only gold-plated and already tarnished. The innocent ones are always the most easily corrupted. I can offer you a place in my gang if you like?”  
“Shut up! I'd sooner die than be anything like you!” Nyctalope snapped.

Fantômas drew his gun, though he did not aim it at him. “Hold your tongue! You should be careful what you wish for… Now, where was I? Oh yes, I was well aware of how mistrusted I was by the Mysterious Men. Getting past this obstacle was easy, given patience. I captured Ishmael in Belgium. It was a small gesture, but Robur fell for it all the same. Our dearest captain saw the risk I had taken in collecting Ishmael to aid the progression of the mission. 

“Little did he know I had left a few clues for the League to pick up on earlier. I moved one of the few things Nemo owned associated to the island- a book to be precise, and I left behind Robur’s signature- his flag, though in a smaller form. It was enough for the League to begin to suspect. The fact that the League came to Belgium, however, was purely coincidental, though I have a feeling that it was to do with Sherlock.

“Now, the first attempt at splitting you all up was on the Albatross. It was Robur's bottle of brandy which I laced with poison. I had the antidote just in case something went wrong-”  
“Which it did,” Nyctalope sneered furiously.

“Yes, so I quickly removed the evidence by throwing the bottle overboard. When I had to save Zenith I was concerned that you would pick on the fact certain poisons have specific antidotes and the coincidence of me having the right one. If it did cross your minds you were too blinded by the fact I had saved him to care. All the same, I realised the opportunity that had presented itself to me after the poisoning. I realised I could frame you, Saint- Clair, and that's what I set out to do. That brings me onto the second attempt. This was where the dust was thrown into Robur's eyes well and true.”

“The shooting- but you couldn't have been there,” Nyctalope argued.   
“He didn’t need to be,” Lupin said. He had closed his eyes as he tried to meditate on the facts that were rapidly being delivered to him. “You got one of your men to do the shooting for you. Oh how easily we forget about our little henchmen. I bet you even made him dress in that set of clothes you took from Nyctalope. The set which comes into play again soon in this tale.”   
“Well done, Lupin. You’re not as stupid as you let on,” Fantômas jibed.   
“Yes well, there's more to me than a handsome face.”

“So Lupin was right all along, but Robur never believed him because of you!” Nyctalope growled.

Lupin interrupted him, “That was the idea. I must admit this has been very thoroughly thought out. Fantômas evidently feared my intelligence above any others- though who can blame him? I have to ask, however, did you want your man to kill Robur or simply scare him?”   
“Either would have satisfied me, though I do believe things turned out for the better. Not only was Nyctalope fully suspected, but you began to lose your authority. Robur no longer valued your word and then all I had to do was widen the rift.

“Consequently, I had to step up my game. Robur’s priorities had changed since the first incident all those years ago. So I had to target his son. I didn’t want Armand killed. That would have intensified matters too far too soon. I wanted to get at Robur a little more first- to see how far I could push him so that he would begin to crack. The snake has to strangle its prey before it devours it, and I do love watching the mighty fall.

“Now, as Lupin has already deduced, I managed to take one of your shirts, Nyctalope. I told my man to keep it on him when he set the fire, deliberately away from the boy. All he had to do was leave the shirt in his room, under Armand’s bed. I spoke with Robur whilst my man set the fire I left after a few minutes after the fire was burning well. We then both saw the fire and I helped save the boy. I was hardly suspected because of all this. Why would I save the people that I was trying to kill?

You two, on the other hand, were a different story. All the fingers were pointing at you, Nyctalope. Robur made the mistake of trying to set all the facts against you and I helped him where I had to. The shirt was enough to have our little hero arrested… The hardest part was persuading you, Lupin, but I was already prepared to solve this problem.”

Without another word, without as much as a nervous gesture, Fantômas removed his mask. The mask that had never left his face. The mask hiding his every feature, his every emotion. Nyctalope’s face paled at the sight, he seemed frozen on the spot. He didn't move, he didn't make a sound. For what did he see?

Himself.

“ _ Sapristi!”  _ Lupin remarked. “I had already realised that this is why I thought Monsieur Saint- Clair had attacked me on the day of the explosion. The only problem you suffered was when I fought back. All the same, I must congratulate you for that disguise. I would applaud your work if my hands were not tied.”  
Fantômas smirked like a fox. “I have been slowly transforming myself for some time now. My mask was very useful as you did not get to see what I was doing until I was ready to show myself. I knew eventually I would have to play my card,” Fantômas explained with a cruel smile.

“Still, you were very careful when you attacked me. You were sure to fight in poor lighting. I also presume that's why I got a few bashes in the face, along with the drugs and all the dust, yes? The instinctive watering of the eyes impairs the vision.  _ C’est Magnifique.”  
_ “I'm glad you think so,” Fantômas replied wryly.

Nyctalope narrowed his bow. “Why would you attack Lupin?”  
“Because I knew you were innocent. I began to suspect this once I smelled your shirt. It did indeed smell of smoke, but it was  _ too _ strong. Had you lit the fire and left, it would not have been that pungent. The evidence was poorly made in that sense,” Lupin pointed out.

“Nor did he trust me and believe my false alibi. You see, Nyctalope, I tried to convince him that you wanted revenge against Robur for having your father's stolen plans, for not intending to go after Khan. I made you a valid motive but Lupin wasn't convinced. I knew he would voice his questioning of the motive to Robur and then they'd all smell a rat. This I naturally could not permit- it would give me away. So I planned to silence him. I knew of Lupin's skills in fighting and so revealed my disguise as you, just in case he should manage to almost overwhelm me. Fantômas would not be to blame, but Nyctalope instead.”

Lupin wiggled and sat up a little straighter. “Then why the explosion? It's clear that it came from inside. If you wanted me dead you could have very easily finished me in the night and just unlocked Nyctalope’s cell to cover your tracks.”

“Robur was too careful for Nyctalope to escape at any point. The explosion was necessary to disrupt this security. My men reported to me that the Nautilus was on its way before anyone else even noticed it. The bomb made the Mysterious Men scatter- each with an individual task. Of course, you would play the part of the hero and have to get Nemo. I just had to wait and catch you. Your death would have been blamed on the League by the time any help made it to you.”

“Ah, but of course.” 

“Nemo is clearly eager for blood without any further contributions on my behalf, although I did hear Ishmael was injured and his third in command was shot dead. They needed no push, and your death would have brought the Mysterious Men to fight. However, I saw Hyde carrying you, so I decided, should you survive, that I would have to think fast to make a new trigger.”

“What you mean to say is that you just didn’t count on Nemo saving me. That has always been your flaw, Fantômas. You think that everyone is as cold and cruel as you are.”   
“Do shut up, Lupin! It’s your drooling sentimentality that got you into this mess,” Fantômas snapped.

Nyctalope seemed much more attentive as Fantômas got up and took out Lupin's pocket watch and noted the positioning of the dainty hands. Lupin could not stop him as, deciding that the watch had value, he took it for himself and sat back down. Lupin seemed quite annoyed but amused all the same.

Nyctalope held his silence as the assassin said “There is still ample time to finish what I have to say, at least. I retreated outside once the League had Nemo and Ishmael. I found myself a gun and waited, curious as to what was going to happen. As I have said, you can imagine my dissatisfaction at seeing you alive, Lupin. It wouldn't do at all, you'd try to heal the rifts I had caused between the League and Mysterious Men. I couldn’t risk it. When you and the others left for the other side of the Island, Zenith was still unconscious. Armand returned to try to help him. So I decided to shoot him.”

“You shot Armand?!” Nyctalope exclaimed. Apparently the news had not met his ears. “He’s a child, you animal!”  
Fantômas raised the gun to silence him. “Oh, don't be so dramatic. I only shot him in the thigh. After that, I waited a good few minutes, so as to not make me look like a suspect, and then played the part as the hero once again. As the League had been there before they were the ones who were blamed for the shooting.

“Once we were in the Albatross, I just had to persuade Robur not to trust our dear missing thief. Who knows what ideas the League could have filled your head with, Lupin? Besides, Robur knew you'd try to stop the fight. Which is why you're here bound as you are. Actually, It's almost time for the grand performance and the two captains shall cease to be. I will have to leave now to make sure the job is done.”

Nyctalope had been quiet for quite some time. Fantômas could see the anger in his frame that he so desperately was trying to control. How he wanted to watch the hero lose his temper and try to free himself, but time was pressing.

Fantômas smashed the telegraph against the floor, rendering it utterly destroyed. Then, replacing his mask, he approached the door.  
“I hope neither of you takes this personally. Business is business after all.”  
“Very well,  _ Au revoir _ . Though do have someone come back to untie us,” Lupin replied, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall. He paid the assassin no more attention as he left humming the Chant du dèpart. The very song that Robur's first mate would play when they were placing his infamous flag.

The door shut with an eerie thud. They both listened as the three men disappeared in the car to fight to the death.

For at least two minutes there was silence. Neither man spoke as they listened to the automobile pulling away from the house.  
“Lupin, what do we do?” Nyctalope asked finally, trying once more to free himself.  
For a moment Lupin didn’t reply, he seemed to be concentrating on something.  
“You do have a plan, don’t you?” Nyctalope asked.

“Well...” Lupin finally yawned and stretched out his arms. Nyctalope was taken aback- he had freed himself!  
“That was the most lugubrious of explanations. At least we know everything he has been planning,” Lupin said to himself as he untied his ankles.  
“How did you-”  
“It's quite simple really. Zenith is on our side- he always has been. I made a plan with him at a much earlier date. I asked him to act as though he was more neutral and when he needed to, against us. When I told him that my ropes were loose, I asked him to tie it again in a fashion which looked solid but with time I could undo. I simply used morse code to write ‘loosen’ and ‘stall’.”

“You never cease to amaze me. Help me out of these ropes, will you?  
“Shh, wait.”  
“What?”  
Lupin made a rapid gesture with his arm to silence the boy. The sound of footsteps made it clear as to why.

Lupin silently grabbed the remains of the telegraph and went behind the door. The man left behind to guard them entered with a brisk step. By the time he realised Lupin was missing, he was already in a heap on the floor. Lupin had struck him on the back of the head with the broken telegraph.  
“A thousand apologies, Monsieur,” Lupin said to the unconscious man.

Lupin quickly crouched down beside Nyctalope and began to work on his wrists. He struggled to unpick the knots that Nyctalope had tightened in his struggles. 

“Now, as I was saying, how I'm free isn't important. What is important is that they are going to fight at Dover according to Robur’s message. We have to get there and stop this madness. I would try to get into contact with Robur using another telegraph but I fear what Fantômas would do if he found out.” Now Nyctalope could untie his own ankles, Lupin tied up the guard with the spare rope.

Nyctalope rubbed his now free ankles and wrists and then stood up with Lupin's help. “Then... if you knew it was Fantômas, why didn't you say so earlier?”  
“Because he would have shot us all. At least this way we have a chance to save everyone,” Lupin explained, searching the unconscious man and taking from him his gun and what ammunition he carried.

“So how are we meant to get to Dover?”  
“The train followed by boat is the fastest way available to us. We just have to hope that's not too late. Come along, I need to go to a friend's house to get you a gun and deal with this fellow. Then we can be off. As Fantômas said, now it is time for the grand performance and I fully intend to be there before the curtain falls.”


	49. The Puppeteer

**Chapter 49 - The Puppeteer** **  
** **Continued**

Fantômas observed how angry Robur was as he drove back to the Albatross, slamming the gear stick into place as he sped along the empty roads. Fantômas sat in the front, with Zenith sat in the back behind Robur. He could see both of them equally well. Zenith was quiet, and Fantômas couldn’t help but wonder if Lupin had spoken to him, what he might have said. Zenith kept his gaze outside, looking out the window, thinking hard.

“What’s on your mind, Zenith?” he asked with feigned concern.  
“This just doesn’t feel right,” Zenith admitted, turned to look at him. Fantômas studied his face hard for any sign of suspicion, for the slightest hint of doubt. He looked conflicted, that much was true. Robur glanced at him but focused on the roads. He was too angry to be listening to this conversation.  
“How so?” Fantômas continued.

Zenith pulled a face. “It’s just not like Lupin to get things wrong, and he seemed so sure of himself-”  
“He’s always full of himself,” Robur grumbled, “that’s his problem. The pest!”  
Zenith raised his voice slightly. “He’s far from it. You know that Lupin wouldn’t have agreed to fight no matter what the circumstances. He wouldn’t have killed anyone- he didn’t even want to shoot at the League when Hyde was about to leap onto the car. It’s not his way and you know it. You can’t expect him to change that.”

“That’s not the point,” Robur barked. “It’s not that he declined, it’s that damned mouth of his, talking like I’m some sort of blood-thirsty tyrant. To say I’d killed Nemo’s daughter!”   
“Yes, he was out of line,” Fantômas said. Even he had to admit it had been a harsh blow, and not very like Lupin, but he had loved seeing the look on Robur’s face. Fantômas had his suspicions about why Lupin had been so harsh, but he was secure now at least. He trusted his man to keep him and Nyctalope there. He’d bound them well, and there would be no getting out of it.

Robur, a tyrant? Possibly, but he certainly wasn’t the blood-thirsty one sat in the automobile. That was Fantômas, he had waited patiently for his opportunity. Nemo and Robur would die this night, it was only a matter of time. He’d been waiting to kill the stubborn old fool beside him for months now, ever since he’d laid his eyes on him.

* * *

**Paris, France:** **July 23rd, 1899**

Fantômas picked the lock with the silence and skill of a master. It was the dead of night and no one was around to interrupt his plans. Who would expect one neighbour to slaughter another in such an expensive complex? Still, he looked both ways down the impressive hallways before he carefully opened the door to avoid any creaking.

Inside was his target for the evening, Gustave Thomas, a crude businessman who’s rival had decided he should no longer be in the picture, not that he cared for any reason. Thomas was just another target and Fantômas had every intention of seeing his task through. All he had to do was find him in the pitch dark and remain undetected. There were half a million francs waiting for him if he could do this, along with whatever he could swipe from Thomas’s apartment.

Luxurious carpets made it easy for him to mask his footfalls. He walked incredibly slowly, making sure the floorboards couldn’t creak beneath him. He masked his breathing as easily as he did his face. Even his heartbeat seemed to quieten in his chest despite pounding against his ribcage, desperate for the thrill of the kill.

He soon came to the occupied bed. Thomas was gently snoring from beneath the covers, lying on his back, lost to the world of sleep, a sleep he would not wake from. The blanket was pulled halfway over his face, so Fantômas would have to remedy that. He brandished his knife, a clean slit across his throat and the money would be his. It was that simple, that beautifully easy to make a living, to thrive, even if he did prefer more exciting methods.

Only when he very slowly peeled the blanket back to expose his throat, a hand reached up and grabbed his wrist, Thomas’ other hand contained a pistol.  
“Don’t move, Monsieur,” he said calmly.

Fantômas snarled, but he would still be able to finish this. He swatted the gun away from his body and made to stab him. “Now!” Thomas exclaimed. He was quick to adjust himself, to let go of the gun and use both hands to grab onto Fantômas’s knife-hand. It was so, so close to breaking the skin, to going straight through his heart. He put all of his strength into it. Thomas wouldn’t be able to last long. He could see Thomas straining to keep the knife away.

The lights almost immediately went on. Fantômas heard the creak of a door, the wardrobe he realised, but before he could do anything, he felt a blade press against his throat, forcing him to be still, to relieve the pressure he was putting on the knife. He had to relax. Thomas quickly retrieved his gun from the bed and took aim, but he couldn’t get up due to the knife still held close to his own throat.

“Interesting,” Fantômas murmured. “We appear to be at a stalemate.”

The surprises weren’t finished there. A large man entered from the connecting room with a gun in hand. Fantômas recognised his face, and he was glad he wore a mask to hide his shock. Was that Jean Robur?! He was supposed to be dead! He was never meant to have been given the chance to grow a single grey hair, and yet here he was.

“Who are you?” he ground out. “What is the meaning of this?”  
“Perhaps you’d like to surrender your knife and step back to allow this gentleman room to stand up?” Robur instructed.

There was a tense moment of calm, of silence and stillness. Fantômas did not move, but the man he held at knifepoint didn’t falter. The stranger who held the sword against his throat pressed harder, “Step back,” he warned. He drove him away from Thomas, forcing him to slowly retreat. He cared little for the threat, but there were too many weapons aimed at him for him to deal with. Yet he did not let go of the knife.

Thomas climbed out of bed, dressed in a fine suit and stood with a surprising, but foolish calmness, dusting himself off. He brought the barrel of the gun level with Fantômas’ chest.  
“There is no need to be angry or concerned, Monsieur,” he said. “My name is Arsène Lupin. The gentleman behind you is Monsieur Zenith, and awfully skilled with a blade, so I suggest you keep still.”

“Good evening,” he mumbled. He knew their names, he knew they were cowards who did not kill. He tried to slowly bring his hand up to his neck, to use two fingers to move the blade away from his neck, but Zenith pressed it in a little harder.  
“Lower your hand,” Zenith warned. Zenith didn’t stick to that rule as much as Lupin did. Fantômas smirked and decided to obey.

Lupin waited a moment before he said, “Finally, the man you see to your left is Captain Jean Robur; he is in charge of this little company. I do apologise for our ploy, but I expect you’ll be very interested in what we have to say. Perhaps you would like to follow us to the dining room where we can discuss our reasons for being here in more detail?”

Fantômas didn’t move. So it was Robur. His night had just gotten very interesting indeed. He stared hard at Lupin, “I don’t like getting tricked, certainly not when half a million Francs is involved.”  
“Trust me, Monsieur, when I say that my… recruitment was far less dignified than yours, but what Lupin tells you is the truth. It is a reasonable deal and a flexible one at that, I suggest you listen to him,” Zenith said. “You can still get your money.”

Silence followed as Fantômas studied Robur, then Lupin, and finally Zenith and the sword pressed against his pounding artery.  
“You’re being very careful,” he pointed out. “What? Are you afraid of me? What an old man might do?”  
Lupin shrugged, “You’re a dangerous man, old or not. You can’t say it’s unreasonable to take precautions?”

With a deep breath, Fantômas returned the knife to its sheath. “Very well. I will listen.” Zenith didn’t move the sword until Lupin nodded at him.  
“Wonderful, right this way if you please,” Lupin answered.

* * *

**Present-day: Continued**

It had been then that Fantômas had snatched the strings out of the Mysterious Men’s hands without them even knowing it. He had been the puppeteer, the one in control of everything that had happened. They had been fools to trust him, to think bribes like money and a chance to do good were what had made him sign up. Not at all, he didn’t fear arrest, he could earn money in much easier ways, and he didn’t care for others. Lupin wanted to give up all the power he had in France, but for Fantômas, the government would have to pry it out of his cold dead hands. 

Robur cast another glance to Fantômas, “you’re sure your plan will work, with the three of us and your men?” he asked.  
“Yes,” he said with full confidence. It was hardly a lie after all. “Trust me. They can all be defeated quite easily once you know what you’re doing.” The words dripped from his mouth like sweet venom, right in front of Zenith’s face, and he had no idea. He seemed far too busy thinking about Lupin to see the answers were right in front of him.

Yes, he had a plan. The League could be defeated easily, that didn’t mean that was his full intention. He had a plan and he was determined to see it through.


	50. An Urgent Message

**Chapter 50 - An Urgent Message  
** _**The** _ **_Nautilus_ ** **, Continued**

Barely hours after dropping Lupin off, the League didn't expect one of Nemo's men to inform his captain that they had received a message from Marseilles. The note had been written on a piece of paper, which the crewman handed to Nemo. The crewman stood still with his hands behind his back as he awaited further instructions. The rest of the League were sitting at the table, having just finished their evening meal. Skinner watched as Nemo's brow furrowed as he read the note. Whatever was written clearly did not please him.

“Something wrong, Nemo?” Skinner asked. He was fully dressed and painted since he was eating. It wouldn't take long for the meal to partially digest and turn invisible like the rest of him.  
“I’m uncertain... It's a message from Lupin. He appears to have run into trouble. The message has been cut off halfway through, but he managed to ask us to meet him in England. I need to look into this further, please excuse me for a moment,” the captain explained as he politely left.

All of the League looked baffled at what they heard. They looked at one another, exchanging anxious glances. Eventually, it was decided that they would go into the library again to wait for Nemo to return and allow the crew to clear the table.  
“It sounds suspicious to me, don't you think?” Skinner frowned, as he sat down in a seat, balancing his hat on the arm of the chair.  
“Perhaps so, but we cannot know for sure yet,” Jekyll answered, understanding his concerns.

Nemo quietly entered the library a few moments later. His expression was grim as he approached the others. The rest of the League sat down and made themselves comfortable as Nemo tried to find a way to put the situation into words.  
“I cannot resume contact with Monsieur Lupin. We have nothing to go on but the small message he sent to us,” Nemo explained, looking somewhat defeated.

“Well, what was it he said exactly?” Quatermain asked.  
“It translates to ‘A.L Urgent. Need help. Come to The White Horse in Dover. I have-’ the message cuts halfway but I believe he meant to say information,” Nemo said.  
“The White Horse… That’s a public house. I remember going there once when I was travelling to France,” Jekyll explained quietly, referring to when he fled England for Hyde’s crimes.  
“So do we help him or not? It’s alright assuming he’s in trouble, but what if it's a trap?” Skinner asked, with a feverish nervousness. It was still very clear he did not trust Lupin one bit.

“Well, we're going to London anyway. I mean, it won't hurt to make sure he's alright. I guess we do owe him that,” Sawyer said.  
“But what’s he doing all the way out at Dover? Lupin should be in France. We only dropped him off what- six or seven hours ago? What is he going all the way out there for? Besides, what could he have found in a couple of hours, if that?” Skinner continued. “I really, really don’t trust that message. It sounds way too fake.”  
“Mr Skinner does have a point,” Jekyll pointed out.

“What is it, Mr Quatermain?” Nemo asked, seeing the morbid expression upon the hunter's face.  
“I can see Skinner's concerns and they should certainly not be ignored, but… perhaps we should go- provided we're careful and take precautions should the message turn out to be a trap. At least that way if Lupin is genuine we can still help him and if it is a trap we have the upper hand… But this decision I do believe should ultimately fall to you, Captain. It's your call,” Quatermain answered, rubbing his chin.

The League did not argue against what Quatermain said, though Skinner did sigh softly and avert his gaze for a moment. The others gave Nemo a look of agreement and reassurance.   
“Yes… I do suspect a trap, but I would like to make sure he’s alright. At the very least I’m curious as to learning what, I'm assuming, information he has unearthed. However, if you should prefer it, I can search for Lupin alone. I would rather not place you all at risk by participating in a task you do not approve of.”

Though the captain wasn’t staring at him, Skinner could tell what Nemo had said was because of him. He was going to risk going alone due to Skinner’s protests. “Hey, no. You're an idiot if you think we'll let you go by yourself,” Skinner said quickly.  
“Exactly, you're one of us. If you want to go then we're with you,” Sawyer interjected with a smile.

“Of course, but what should we do if there is, in fact, a trap waiting for us?” Jekyll wondered, quietly fidgeting with his pocket watch.   
“We'll be prepared for such an event. Besides, Jean Robur and I have a score to settle. If the Mysterious Men are intending to ambush us then that will shorten the period of time I will have to wait for justice,” Nemo answered bluntly.

“Do we intend to fight the Mysterious Men if the opportunity arises?” Mina asked.  
“I care not for Les Hommes Mysterieux, Mrs Harker, only Robur. I hold very little against the others. They only followed orders,  _ his _ orders.”  
“Then we will do our best to give you that chance,” Mina answered. She looked at Nemo reassuringly in her dignified, elegant manner. Nemo had more right than any other to fight Robur. Mina would expect someone to give her the same opportunity should something as atrocious as that have happened to her son.

Nemo smiled softly, grateful for the League's loyalty to him. He hadn't even known them for half a year and yet they were willing to go halfway around the world to save him. Even now they were willing to go and check on Lupin, someone who would be considered an enemy by most, merely because he wanted to. They knew how important it was to Nemo and they respected his wish. Though the League couldn't replace what he had lost, they were, along with his crew, as close as Nemo could get to having a new family. That was a more reassuring thought than anything else could be. He wasn't alone.

* * *

**The White Horse, Dover: Continued**

The League made it to Dover the day after they received the message. It was starting to get late but the League were ready to try to find Lupin. With any luck, he would see the Nautilus and come to find them. The late October air was gnawing at Skinner’s skin from under his coat and hat. He crossed his arms as he waited impatiently near The White Horse with Mina. Jekyll and Nemo were also waiting outside, though at the opposite side. They were watching the old public house very closely, ready to help if they needed to.

The White Horse was a good-sized pub on the corner of a street. It was about nine o’clock at night and so, for now, it was still open. Skinner was tempted to abandon his post and go to get warm by the fire. Seeing smoke dancing out of the chimney didn't help. He was getting impatient in just waiting out in the miserable cold.

Quatermain and Sawyer had gone in The White Horse to see if Lupin was actually there. That was about an hour ago. The four of them outside were beginning to feel anxious. The idea of the message being a trick was brewing in their minds. It was too late to back out now. They had already swallowed the bait, but willingly at least. Skinner had guessed there’d be a trap from the beginning, though he didn’t actually want to be right. He hoped Lupin was telling the truth for the sake of the League. Skinner didn’t want to see Nemo betrayed, not after all the trouble his decision of saving Lupin had caused.

“What’s taking them so long? If those two are having a pint then they’d better fetch us one at least,” Skinner grumbled,    
“We can head back once it closes for the night. Try to have patience,” Mina said quietly.   
“Easy for you to say, I’m freezing my- uh, kneecaps off.”

Mina cast Skinner a good-hearted scowl, which made him chuckle.

A gentle quiet began to fall upon the two friends; despite the cold and dark, it was peaceful. They stood under the halo of a streetlamp, but Mina decided to bring up a less comfortable topic.

“Skinner, I need to speak with you,” she said. “I’d rather it did not wait any longer, seeing how the night is developing.”  
“Alright... what about?”  
“I’m afraid it is about when we were back on the island… At first, I didn’t realise. I was too keen on getting back to the others to see how upset you were after I had been stabbed on the Albatross. I didn't pay attention to how badly you were affected... Looking back, I’m ashamed to say I didn’t see it sooner.”   
Skinner cleared his throat and turned his entire body sideways away from her and leaned against the streetlamp. “You don’t need to worry about it. We’ve talked about this; you’re alright now, so there are no worries.”

Mina reached out and put her hand on Skinner’s arm to get his attention, making him turn around. “That’s not the point I'm trying to make, Skinner. I need you to promise me something.”

Skinner stood up a little straighter, still facing Mina. He could hardly look her in the eye. “I’ll do my best,” he smiled, trying to mask his sudden embarrassment at her seeing right through him.   
“A fight is becoming more and more imminent by the moment. If anything should ever happen to any of us,  _ never  _ blame yourself. Despite you telling Sawyer the same thing earlier, you clearly haven’t followed your own advice.”   
“What can I say? I’m an idiot,” Skinner remarked, feeling the slightest bit more comfortable.   
“You may be an idiot as you say, but you’re an honest one at least.”

Skinner smirked and turned his head back to look at the public house. He was pleased to finally see Sawyer and Quatermain making their way out of The White Horse.

“Come on, we’d best go see what they’ve found… and thank you, Mina. It’s good to know you’re looking out for me.”   
“I only did what any other friend would do,” she answered, walking with him to the middle of the street. Skinner smirked and mockingly offered her his arm to walk with. Mina shot him a warning glare, which made him chuckle and drop his arm. Looked like he would have to settle with just being friends for a while longer, not that he would stop trying- hopeless or not. 

Jekyll and Nemo had also made their way across to the middle of the street.  
“What did you find?” Nemo inquired.   
“Lupin wasn't there but someone just passed us a note,” Sawyer reported.   
“What’s it say?” Skinner asked.   
“Meet at the white cliffs. I’m being followed and they’ll kill me if they get the chance. I’m sorry for all this vagueness but I’ve opened quite the can of worms. There were too many people here to show myself to you and I don’t want others to get hurt. I have information about Nemo and Robur. Please come immediately, time is running out. - A.L.”   


“Are we suspecting the very obvious trap yet? The Lupin I’ve heard of isn’t worried about being followed. He just disguises himself. Hell, he’d show up anyway just to spite them,” Skinner remarked. “And, there’s nothing by the cliffs but grass if I remember right. Sounds like a perfect battlefield to me.”   
“Mr Skinner is right. Lupin isn't the kind to keep changing plans. I still wish to go, however. Should the Mysterious Men be there then I would like to find Robur,” Nemo answered.   
“Then we’re with you,” Quatermain said. “We’ll be there in less than an hour with the automobiles.”   
“Well, let’s get this over with,” Skinner sighed.

The group carefully made their way over to where the two automobiles were hidden, waiting for them.   
“Don't suppose I could have a quick pint and warm my bones,” Skinner muttered, looking at the public house.  
“No,” Quatermain grumbled.

Skinner's shoulders dropped in disappointment. “Charming, and I doubt anyone is going to offer cuddles for me to warm up. Sawyer? Not even you?”  
“You’ll be fine, Skinner,” Sawyer smirked.

Skinner opened the passenger door for Mina with a smirk. She inclined her head towards him, noting his manners as she climbed inside. Nemo was to drive that automobile, which was to also carry Jekyll in the back. Skinner was to sit in the back of the other automobile, with Sawyer driving and Quatermain in the seat beside the young agent.

It was a quiet wait as they made it to the cliffs, which wasn’t a long drive away. Sawyer took the lead, as together, Skinner and Quatermain were able to figure out which way to go without getting severely lost any stage. The last thing they needed was to be delayed.

  
Skinner decided to wipe off his grease paint with a towel he had brought with him whilst they were on their way.  
“I hope you realise if I’m right about this being a trap, you owe me a shilling,” Skinner said.   
“Don’t push your luck. You can have a halfpenny and that’s it,” Quatermain grumbled.   
“Sixpence?”   
“Penny.”  
“Thruppence?”  
“Fine, just don't push your luck,” Quatermain argued.  
“Hmph, it’s more than I thought I’d get. You’re feeling very generous for once,” Skinner remarked.   
Quatermain shook his head as he smiled to himself. “Don’t be getting used to it.”

* * *

_**The** _ **_Nautilus_ ** **  
** **(*Meanwhile*)**

Ishmael knew something was wrong when Nemo and the League didn’t return within the first few hours. His orders were to remain and wait for a flare if there was any trouble. Nemo didn’t want to risk any of his crew to Robur again.

Left with little else to do, Ishmael paced. He walked for what could have been hours, until his hip, still healing from the rescue at Island X began to scream at him and forced him to sit down with an agonised wince. He kept his hand against the flaring pain. Jekyll would not be happy about him exerting himself, but then again, Jekyll was not the one worrying about what was taking Nemo so long to return. If Robur killed Nemo or even took him again, he didn’t know what he’d do.

He shook the thoughts out of his mind as one of the crewmen, Nasim, came into the room. He was an older member of the crew, he had been with Nemo and Ishmael since they were first taken and he understood the gravity of the situation. At once he noticed the sweat on Ishmael’s brow and his haggard breathing.  
“Sir, are you alright?” he asked, coming closer.  
“Fine,” he winced. “Is Aarav still on the conning tower looking for the flare?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Have someone take over from him, two at a time and take it in short shifts. It’s cold tonight.”  
Nasim nodded but took a moment to consider Ishamel’s condition. “You’re worried?”

Ishmael looked up at him and rubbed at his forehead, “Terrified… and there’s nothing I can do but wait. Knowing Robur could be setting up a trap. Nemo’s wounds haven’t healed enough to be fighting, not something like this.”  
Nasim smiled sadly, “If I may say so, I would not underestimate the Captain, sir. He is strong and full of many of a surprise. Besides, I am sure the League will protect him. He’s not alone.”  
Ishmael smiled gently and nodded. “You’re right.” He smiled softly, “The League has certainly proved themselves… Thank you.”  
Nasim bowed and left to carry out his duties.

No sooner had Nasim left, someone else replaced him, rushing in. “Arjun, what’s going on?” he exclaimed.  
Arjun stood to attention. “There is a man outside wanting to speak with the League. His name is Sherlock Holmes- I recognise him from Belgium.”  
“The detective who helped to find us?”  
“Yes, sir. He said he has urgent news.”

Ishmael grimaced. “Bring him in, quickly now.”  
“Yes, sir.” Arjun rushed off.

Ishmael took a deep breath and stood up, trying to get used to the pain before Holmes arrived. He had to settle with not having his full weight on his leg. He was able to hide enough of his pain before he arrived.

He managed a half-hearted smile as Holmes entered the control room. “Mr Holmes, can I ask what you are doing here?”

“As I hope you were told I have an important message. Is there any way for you to get into contact with the League- I am assuming they have already left?”  
“There is no way to contact them,” Ishmael sighed. “Although I can track the automobile they went in.”

Ishmael approached the tracking system, forgetting to go slow. He winced as his hip buckled. Holmes’ hand shot out to steady him but he stayed upright. Ishmael cleared his throat. “It’s fine, thank you.” He went slower and set the correct signal. “They’ve moved a few miles,” Ishmael said.  
“Then my warning has come too late.”

“Why? What warning?” Ishmael asked impatiently. “It’s a trap? They’re prepared for that.”  
“It is far more than that. It is a trap for both the League and the Mysterious Men. Fantômas is planning to kill Captain Nemo and Captain Robur. He is a traitor.”  
Ishmael groaned and leaned against the machine. “Fantômas… I. I don’t understand and there’s… very little I can do. Nemo gave strict orders for me not to send reinforcements unless he sends the flare.”  
Holmes lowered his head, “I am sorry I was unable to get here sooner.”

Ishmael nodded, “how did you find this out?” he asked.

“I had searched the men at Belgium but missed one. Monsieur Poirot was able to send me a copy of the message once his officers found him. It read ‘Plans have been finalised. The shell should be ready to follow the bird. Les Hommes Mystérieux must fall, as must her sister. Await further instructions to carry out at the nest’. This has all been planned to lead to their downfall. I continued to follow the trail as Mr Sawyer asked me to find the paintings that been stolen. I discovered far more than I anticipated, including that Fantômas knows you are here, following the bait, only I do not know why he doing this.”

Ishmael could not hide his frustration. He forced air into his lungs. “All we can do is hope and wait for that flare,” he said. He sighed and looked out of the window to the fog that was rolling in. “What have you gotten yourself in for this time, Captain?”


	51. Flint and Fuse

**Chapter 51 - Flint and Fuse  
** **White Cliffs of Dover, England, Continued**

The League had no idea what to expect when they made it to the cliffs. They were out in what Skinner considered the middle of nowhere. It was bitterly dark near the sea and an eerie fog had begun to roll in. The moon was full and bright like an almighty eye had come to witness whatever was to follow. The League were the only ones there. They had only flares, one of which Quatermain carried, to attract the Nautilus’s attention should they require help, though it was quite useless. Even if the crew saw the signal, it would take too long for them to get to the cliffs. The League was alone, whatever was to follow. The Nautilus would likely be unaware that the League had even moved.

Sawyer decided to stop the automobile a fair distance away from the lighthouse. He didn't know what the terrain would be like and so he decided to not take any risks, should they need a quick getaway. Nemo followed suit, parking the automobile alongside its twin. For a long moment, they waited, hoping to see some sort of sign of Lupin’s presence. There wasn't so much as a movement, not a whisper on the winds, nothing but the purring of the ocean far beneath them.

The light from the lighthouse illuminated the ground, making it appear they were alone. It was up to them to make the first move. Quatermain gestured through the glass to Nemo to wait for a moment.  
“I'm still waiting for that thruppence, Allan,” Skinner reminded him.  
“Just get out there and go to scout ahead,” Quatermain grunted.  
Skinner groaned, taking off his coat. The cold air immediately ripped away any warmth left in his body.  
“I hate being the invisible one,” Skinner sighed as he climbed out of the automobile.

Just then, Skinner spotted something high above them. No one had been able to see it before due to the roofs on the automobiles. Skinner immediately opened the passenger door to the automobile and said “Above us! You need to see this, hurry up and get out. We've got trouble.”  Skinner quickly went to tell Nemo the same message. What Skinner had discovered was the Albatross, though it was beginning to descend near to the cliffs.  
“Jekyll, it may be wise for you have your potion at hand,” Nemo said, though he didn’t look away from the airship.

_ Come on, Henry. Let me out so I can flatten these nasty little vermin,  _ Hyde pleaded through the reflection of the automobile window.  
Jekyll didn't reply to him, but Hyde didn’t give in.  
_ At the first sign of danger, you better have that vial halfway down your throat. I'm not missing this fight… I'm quite looking forward to it. _   
Jekyll took the potion from his pocket and held it tightly, waiting for the moment when Hyde’s skills would be required. Hyde would be on a timer as soon as Jekyll drunk it. He couldn't be too early.

The Albatross lowered herself down until she was roughly level with the cliff. The League braced themselves for the worst, only to have Zenith climb off the ship and approach them. Despite him being alone, he was able to carry an interesting, if not intimidating aura. His bravery was certainly admirable at the very least.

Zenith leaned against his cane a healthy few feet away from the League.  
“Good evening,” Zenith greeted casually.  
“Don't bother with the formalities. Where's Lupin?” Skinner demanded.  
“Unfortunately, Monsieur Lupin will be unable to see you this evening. If you have a conflict to resolve you will have to content yourself with the rest of Les Hommes Mystérieux,” Zenith replied soberly.  
“You still didn't answer my question,” Skinner pointed out.  
“Nor do I have any intention of doing so.”

Nemo made a very discreet signal for Skinner to stop. He acknowledged the sign and left the captain to do the talking.  
“Why are you and the Albatross here, Monsieur Zenith?”  
“I think you already know the answer to that question,” Zenith said. He took his cane in both hands and pulled it apart slightly, revealing the concealed blade. Nemo raised an eyebrow and stared at him. 

Zenith did not yield. His face remained expressionless. “Your actions on the island cannot be ignored.”  
“Actions?” Sawyer repeated.  
“Since when were we in the wrong?!” Skinner exclaimed. “You caused all this- and we let Lupin go in one piece, what more do you want?!”  
Zenith did not reply.

The flickering of lighthouse light caught Sawyer's attention and he turned sharply, ready with his gun, looking towards the source of the disturbance: Fantômas was at the top of the building, waiting silently. Sawyer lowered his gun upon realising there was no immediate threat but kept his full attention to the assassin. Sawyer found Fantômas had a talent for making the spy's skin creep. He glanced back at Quatermain, who understood they were at risk of being surrounded. The two gunmen kept the League covered.

“If we're gonna fight we'll have to get Fantômas out of there. He'll gun everyone down,” Sawyer whispered towards Quatermain.  
Quatermain nodded and murmured. “Nemo needs his chance.”

The hunter found himself wanting Nemo to get his revenge perhaps more than what he should have. Robur had killed Nemo’s family, his third in command, and almost his closest friend. Quatermain knew the devastation which that brought. He knew how much that meant to Nemo to stop Robur and there was no point in trying to persuade him otherwise. He was half-tempted to just shoot him on sight, but Quatermain wasn't in charge this time. This fight was on Nemo's terms.

Nemo looked past Zenith and towards the Albatross. He caught a glimpse of Robur as he locked one of the cabin doors. Nemo knew he had the League's support, all he had to do was give the command. His hand wandered towards his own sword.

“Then so be it.”

_ Now, Henry, now!  _ Hyde demanded.

Jekyll decided that what Edward said was wise. He drank down the potion.

Zenith drew his sword as Jekyll began to painfully transform.  
“This is between Robur and I, Zenith. Leave now whilst you have the opportunity. None of us will follow you,” Nemo warned above the noise of Jekyll’s yelling.  
“This is between all of us now, Captain. I won't be going anywhere,” Zenith answered fearlessly, swinging his sword in a horizontal figure of eight.

Nemo glanced back towards Quatermain and Sawyer.  
“You just get after Robur. We'll cover you as soon as we can,” Quatermain said.  
“We will deal with the others,” Mina added, her voice grew hoarse as her thirst for blood made itself more known. She had come dressed for battle, giving her a frightful appearance. She wore the same black, leather-like clothes which she had worn at Mongolia. It was a good thing she came prepared after all.

“Wait!” a voice suddenly called. The League looked over to see Lupin and Nyctalope running towards them. Nyctalope slipped away to the side and left the thief alone. What was he up to?  
“What's he doing here?” Sawyer exclaimed, what surprised him was that Zenith had said the exact same thing as him in unison.  
“It doesn't matter. I've got him,” Skinner grumbled.

Nemo was the first to leave, he barreled straight past Zenith, who seemed to have little interest in fighting the captain and towards the group of men who stood between him and Robur. Quatermain and Sawyer took off in the direction of the lighthouse to find Fantômas and stop him from gunning anyone down should that be his intention. Nyctalope was evidently to be Hyde’s prey as he went chasing after the young hero with a roar of determination.

Skinner marched right over to Lupin, who was trying to hurry over to what was left of the League before they fully broke apart to fight. That left Zenith with Mina, who was staring at him with a predatory gleam in her eyes.

“You must be joking,” Zenith muttered, understanding which opponent he was left with. Zenith checked his pocket for his only precaution and defence: a sharpened piece of hawthorn wood. It was still there, but he began to doubt its effectiveness. Mina snarled ferociously, baring her teeth and surged forwards. Zenith knew this would not end well.

* * *

“Well, Lupin, you backstabbing toad! Glad to see you've shown up,” Skinner remarked, as Lupin approached the gathering from afar.

“Skinner, I'm not here to fight. I need your help,” Lupin rushed. He stopped moving to make Skinner come to him. Lupin looked up at where Zenith and Mina were slowly stalking each other, preparing to fight.  
“Not a chance in hell, but come on, give me a laugh, what do you want my help for?”  
“Nemo and Robur are going to kill each other unnecessarily. We're all fighting needlessly! It’s a trap against both our teams. Skinner, we have to stop them but neither side will listen to me now-”

“I wonder why,” Skinner said sarcastically.  
“Skinner, I did not send that message to ask you to come here, you must believe me. You must allow me to explain. We don’t have time! Nemo and Robur are going to die!”  
“Nice try, Lupin, but Nemo has a score to settle,” Skinner said as he approached him.

Lupin could seemingly tell that Skinner was directly in front of him despite him not saying anything. He sighed and shook his head, almost as if in disappointment.  “I'm not going to fight you,” he muttered. Lupin tried to walk past Skinner, but the invisible thief stretched his arm out and grabbed Lupin by his blazer, stopping him in his tracks. Skinner's hand was very close to Lupin's latest cut, which he had received on the island, but he did not allow it to distract him. Lupin inclined his head towards Skinner- a silent warning for him to let go no doubt. The invisible man decided to ignore it.

“So hang on just a minute,” Skinner said, pulling Lupin towards him so that they were face to face instead of side to side. Lupin didn’t fight back as he was forcibly guided to the side. He just stared at the air in front of him.  
“So you’re trying to tell me that you didn’t set this up? You send a message asking for help and the next thing we know we’re getting ambushed. That’s very coincidental.”  
Skinner still did not let go of him, his fist actually clutched the material tighter. He wasn’t going to let him slip away to attack someone else or whatever he had planned. 

For a moment, Lupin waited, staring hard at the invisible hand that seized him. His arms stayed down by his sides almost patiently. Skinner could almost picture the cogs turning in his head. The invisible thief braced himself, knowing to expect a trick.  
“Of course I didn’t. As I’ve already told you I did not send that message. Let me through, you’re just wasting time- and you’re creasing my suit,” Lupin answered calmly.  
“You've got more to worry about than your suit. Sorry, but I'd rather let Nemo get on with it. He deserves that much. Just like I'd rather get on with our own fight. Don’t pretend you care about us lot,” Skinner growled.

“I’m trying to help Nemo before he gets himself killed! You need to trust me. Robur feels confident he can kill Nemo, so he must have some sort of trick up his sleeve unless he just shoots him. Even if Nemo were to win, Fantômas is going to kill them both. He’s the traitor amongst the Mysterious Men, not Nyctalope.”  
“Oh, so you’re going to blame Fantômas for all this. Why? To try to save Robur’s backside?” Skinner snorted. Every word, every line that came out of that man’s mouth was a lie. It was like watching a snake stick out its forked tongue when he spoke.   
“I’m not lying, Skinner. I heard it from his own mouth. You are just being a half-wit, blinded with hatred. I swear I-”

When Skinner heard Mina snarling at Zenith as they battled a good distance away, Skinner decided to fight his own battle. The longer he waited, the more opportunity he was giving Lupin to think of a plan of attack. Skinner swung a mighty punch at him. At apparently being able to feel what Skinner was intending to do with him holding onto him, Lupin threw his arm up, managing to take the force out of the punch that was aimed towards his head.

Before Skinner could try again, Lupin struck out with the opposite hand, hitting him in the chin. Skinner staggered back, unharmed, but startled. Skinner actually got the impression he was pulling his punches, making them weaker than what he was capable of.

“You little-” Skinner muttered, touching his face to check he wasn’t bloodied. Lupin wouldn’t have been able to see it either way, but he wanted to be sure. As of yet, he wasn’t.  
“ _ Tu es un imbecile, _ ” Lupin muttered. “Skinner, please. I’m not here to fight you! Listen to me, Fantômas-”   
“You’ve already lied once. I know what you’re like, Lupin. You don’t give a hell about Nemo, you’re just trying to defend Robur,” Skinner explained, silently circling him. He lashed out, punching from all angles, and Lupin was struggling to keep up, to know where he was.   


“Robur is innocent!” Lupin exclaimed. “He didn’t kill Nemo’s family. Your stubbornness will end up being the death of Nemo. Listen to me!” Lupin argued, looking around for signs of the invisible thief. His focus wandered down to the grass, the flattened footprints. It was enough to go by. 

Taking his chance, Lupin tried to hurry in the direction of the Albatross, knowing speaking to Skinner would be pointless at this rate. Skinner could see Nemo was already making his way over to the ship, cutting down any man who tried to stand in his way of getting to Robur. Skinner wasn’t a killer, but he couldn’t deny Nemo the right to avenge his family. He had to keep Lupin busy until Nemo had done what he needed to do.

Skinner ran at Lupin, and dived at his knees. Lupin fell to the floor in a heap and quickly began to struggle with Skinner. The ground beneath them was wet due to recent rainfall. It immediately snatched Skinner’s stealth from him. He was getting covered in dirt. Lupin seemed to be deliberately trying to make him as visible as possible as they rolled about the floor. The only thing Skinner hadn’t been aware of was Lupin’s skill in ju-jitsu. Going to the ground was the worst thing he could have done.

“You're on my spleen,” Skinner wheezed, fighting to try and get up.  
“You don't even know where your spleen is,” Lupin retorted.

Skinner cheated somewhat, nipping him, giving him the chance to wrap his arm around Lupin's neck as he tried to cut off his air supply. Lupin was lying face down on the floor and initially could do very little. Skinner needed to be quick about this, Lupin wouldn’t be so easily beaten so he needed to fight him whilst he would have an advantage. Skinner could see from the light of the lighthouse beacon that Lupin’s face was turning red. His body was tense as he struggled. Skinner gritted his teeth as he waited for him to pass out. However, Lupin was not so easily defeated.

Seemingly helpless, Lupin tried to get Skinner off him by pulling at his arm. However, he was able to use this as a way to feel for Skinner's elbow. Lupin fiercely dug his thumb into the inside of the joint- the pressure point. Skinner yelped in pain, the only way he could get the pain to subside was to straighten out his arm and consequently release him.

Gasping for breath, Lupin scrambled to his feet. He didn’t appear to be too fazed, only out of breath.   
“That hurt,” Skinner grumbled, rubbing his now sore arm. He was going to have to be very careful if he was going to beat the thief. He had too many means of escaping.  
“How long is it going to take for you to realise that this is pointless?” Lupin panted.  
“About as long as it takes for Nemo to finish Robur,” Skinner remarked, deciding to go in for another try at overwhelming Lupin whilst he was still winded.

Due to the mud that was on his arms, hands and legs, Lupin could tell he was coming for him. Skinner wasn't a big fighter and so he didn't really know what he was meant to do. He decided to swing for his head, hoping power would make up for his lack of skill. Skinner's punch proved too slow and was too wide of a swing. Lupin managed to lean back to avoid the strike and, seeing the opportunity, kicked him in the side.

“If you're going to try to punch me then at least do it properly,” Lupin remarked soberly.  
Skinner almost fell onto the floor due to the force of the blow. Lupin stepped towards him, ready to hit him again if it meant Skinner staying down. Predictably, he got back up to punch him again but Lupin managed to catch his wrist. Within an instant, Lupin bent Skinner’s hand down towards the inside of his arm and thus locked the wrist in a painful position. Skinner shouted out again but he couldn't free himself this time. 

He attacked Lupin’s sprained wrist and although he was in obvious agony, he did not let go. Lupin forced him down to the ground, pushing harder the more he fought. Lupin was perfectly composed and focused now, as though he was merely putting an ornament down onto a table.

With a simple movement of capturing his wrist, Skinner was under his control.  
“Ow, that's cheating,” Skinner could help but exclaim.

It made no difference. A moment later, Lupin had him on the floor and pinned in some sort of body lock. Lupin held onto him firmly and did not release the wrist lock either. Skinner felt like he was threatening to break his entire arm over his hips should any more force be applied. His entire arm was burning in pain for all there wasn't so much as a mark on him. He was stuck.

“This is an armbar, and I will use it to hurt or even break your arm if you do not listen to me! This has all been Fantômas’ trick! Who do you think left the clues on the Nautilus, or set off an explosion on the island? Who tried to kill Robur over and over and attacked me? I can leave you here unconscious or you can get up and help me make sure Fantômas doesn't get to Nemo or Robur. I am begging you, monsieur! One word, yes or no?”

An increased amount of force helped him to decide quickly.  
“Ow! Yes- fine, fine. Just get off my bloody arm!”

There was a slight hesitation on Lupin's side, but he released Skinner. Skinner immediately rolled away from him. The two got their feet, staring hard at one another. Lupin showed no signs of wanting to resume a fight. Maybe he was actually trying to tell the truth. He winced and cradled his wrist that Skinner had hurt in his struggles.

“So, you honestly mean it was Fantômas who did this?” Skinner clarified wearily.  
‘Yes, and I don’t have time to explain,” Lupin answered.  
“Why should I trust you?”  
“Because Nemo’s life is at stake; are you really willing to risk it? Where is- Zenith!”

Skinner turned to see Zenith and Mina struggling on the floor. Mina was going to kill him, but she couldn't see Zenith reaching for a sharp piece of wood. With each wanting to save their own, the two thieves sped towards them.


	52. Royalty and Blood

**Chapter 52 - Royalty and Blood  
** **Continued**

“I'd rather not have to fight a woman, Mrs Harker,” Zenith sighed, casting away the part of the cane which acted as a sheath.  
“Don't let that stop you,” she answered coldly. Her voice was quiet and sounded almost reptilian. “But I will give you a chance.” Mina took out her two knives from their places behind her back. They had been concealed by her long coat.  
“How very thoughtful, Madame,” Zenith replied casually.

Zenith raised his sword, preparing to battle to what he expected would be to the death. Mina snarled and dived towards him. With what was evidently an expert hand, Zenith was able to deflect the first few slashes that Mina sent towards him. Left, right, left - it came to him easily. The blade he carried was relatively thin and it would have been possible to use the blade in one hand, had Mina not been quite so strong.

Mina tried to slash at his face, but Zenith was barely able to lean back enough to avoid the swipe. He used his sword to slash down her arm, buying him a second or two to back up for a hasty break. Blood dripped for only a second or two before the wound sealed itself. Zenith could see the injury crumbling away like dirt. Mina was unfazed.   
“You should have chosen something iron,” she jibed.

“Can I trouble you to ask for you to try to avoid my face in the future? I don't have a lot going for me but I quite like my head the way it is. I don't fancy having any scars, thank you.”  
“You don't need to worry about scars,” Mina hissed. Zenith realised his head wasn't the target, it was what was a few inches below it.

A faint smile trickled onto his lips. He could feel the adrenaline in his veins, he seemed to notice every little thing that happened. This was the feeling Zenith lived for! This was why he was not afraid, he was much too busy being excited. He could see Mina’s breath turning to steam in the air, he could feel the ground beneath his feet and his mind felt as though it had been released from a cage.

“How can you bear to stand there when you know what Robur has done?” Mina growled, silently circling Zenith.    
Zenith kept turning on the spot, holding his sword. He spun the blade around in his hand. “The same way you can stand there defending Nemo after all he has done. But, I assure you, Madame, I am not here  _ just _ for Robur.”

Another wave of slashes came his way. Zenith stayed steady, defecting the horizontal slashes with his sword. He managed to keep up with the rapid pace of Mina's fighting. He was beginning to tire but for now, he could last. It was not the pace of the fight which was causing Zenith difficulty. Mina was holding nothing back- that much was obvious. 

Zenith saw his opportunity when a swing came at him close to his head. He used his sheer strength to hit the knife as near to the handle as he could. He ended up catching and badly cutting Mina's hand. It happened so quickly that Mina dropped the knife. Zenith drove her backwards quickly, making sure she couldn't pick the weapon back up. They were beginning to get further and further away from Lupin and Skinner, who were rolling about the floor like dogs.

But a slightly longer glance in Lupin's direction told the albino that his teammate was holding up well. Zenith snapped back to attention but it was too late. Mina's hand healed faster than he expected and, using her remaining knife, slashed at him. Zenith brought his sword up but the blade slid off and hit him hard in the shoulder. At least it wasn't his sword arm, but it would slow him down. 

Mina waited as Zenith held himself in pain, which enabled him to spare a glance to his arm. His shoulder throbbed and the coldness of the air made the wound sting all the more. The albino struggled not to curse out loud at the pain. He could feel the warmth of his blood dripping down his arm. It had already trickled down to his elbow. A new wave of adrenaline was able to block out most of the pain for the time being at least.

“Then why are you here if not for Robur?” she demanded, standing up straight and filling Zenith with frightful awe.  
Zenith knew that the longer Mina drew out the fight, the more he would bleed and the weaker he would grow. He needed to speed this up.  
“Why are you here?!” the vampire hissed, impatient for an answer.  
Zenith tensed his jaw angrily. As if she didn't know why the Mysterious Men were after them!

“I'm here to get some form of justice for the boy. The child your League shot and tried to kill. That is why I am here!” Zenith stood up straight, trying to ignore the burning pain in his arm. Speaking of Armand gave him a new source of motivation to keep going. He was ready to fight again.  
“We did nothing of the sort!” Mina snarled, her voice sounding more leathery and sinister than before. She sounded genuinely enraged at the accusation.

Zenith tried to go in for an attack, knowing he was running out of time. He sprang forward with a light-footed step, succeeding in hitting her shoulder hard before she could fully deflect the strike. It made no difference to the vampire, however. She simply healed. None of his attacks would help him. There were two ways to kill a vampire, decapitation and a stake to the heart. His sword simply would not manage the first way, nor did he fancy the sight of it. That left the second way. He had to change his tactics. He needed to get in close, that was his only chance. He just  _ had _ to get close- but how?

Zenith had an idea. A foolish, dangerous, and utterly suicidal idea- but it was an idea all the same. Mina was sure to fall for it, the urge for blood would overpower her and then he would be able to attack- whether he survived or not was another thing altogether. But being killed by a vampire was a tolerable death for him at least, something to brag about in the next life perhaps.

With a growl of annoyance, Mina jumped over the top of him, aiming to ram the blade into his back. Zenith managed to have the sense to drop down onto one knee, he felt the blade whip over his head, but he was unscathed. His shoulder was deeply beginning to pain him now. Even with his tremendous skill in sword fighting, his attacks amounted up to nothing. Had she been a normal person, he would have technically won the fight by now. 

He had to take the risk. First of all, he had to get her preferably unarmed. She had to be willing to bite him. That way she would be close enough to him.

Zenith spun around, still on his knee to avoid a second swing. The knife came flying down towards him. He had to place his hand flat on the blade to deflect the knife. He was stuck on one knee, which did not give him an advantage. Never had Zenith faced an opponent with such a lithe and water-like fighting style before. 

He pushed the sword towards her and then swung the weapon, which made Mina get away a little. Taking the opportunity, he jumped to his feet, jabbing at Mina's arm as he did, hoping she would let go of her remaining knife. Mina wasn't willing to make the same mistake again and she was much too fast for him this time. She stepped to the side and slashed at the albino’s forearm as he lunged forward.

Crying out at the pain which ricocheted all the way up to his good shoulder, Zenith ended up almost dropping his sword. Mina used his moment of weakness to her advantage. She threw her knife aside and dived towards him. She reached for the sword, succeeding in snatching it out of his now bloodied, slippery hand. Knowing he was unarmed, Zenith grabbed at the stake in his pocket. The force that Mina was able to employ in forcing him down to the ground was impossible to tackle. He hit the ground hard, which further pained his shoulder. The wooden weapon fell out of his hands, ever so slightly out of reach.

As Mina threw the sword away, as if in disgust, Zenith kept his cool, trying desperately to reach for the stake. His fingertips were touching it, but he could not grab at it. He gritted his teeth, reaching, trying to use his hips to lift Mina up slightly so he could reach it. She wouldn't budge. His arms pained him terribly. He managed to move his body ever so slightly. One finger became two, two became three. He had it!

Mina roughly turned his head, pinning it to expose the pounding artery in his neck. Knowing time was running out, Zenith brought his hand up, driving the weapon towards her heart as hard as he could. Mina saw the attack and leaned back sharply. She grabbed his arm and wrestled him for the weapon. 

With his arms feeling so weak, Mina was able to turn it against him, using the force to try to drag it down towards his chest. Zenith struggled to keep the stake away from him. He forced every nerve and sinew to fight her. All his eyes could focus on was the point of the weapon which was inches away from his body. To be killed by the one thing that was meant to save him? Oh, fate was cruel!

Zenith heard Lupin shouting his name, but he paid it no attention, he was focusing so hard on surviving that he had almost forgotten to breathe. He strained every muscle in his body, but he was losing his grip on the weapon. His hands were too wet with blood to keep a firm grip on the wood and his arms were in agony. He could feel the stake getting closer and closer. He was going to have to give up. This fight wasn't for him to win.

Everything happened so quickly he could not fully acknowledge it. He felt the weapon being ripped away from him. The weight pinning him down disappeared. Zenith dropped his arms down onto the floor, exhausted. For a moment he lay there in shock, not sure if he was dead or not. Another wave of pain sent him into a sickly dizzy spell. He wanted to curl up and sleep.

“Zenith, up! Hurry now, you can rest later. On your feet!” Lupin exclaimed, dragging the albino up from the floor. His arms felt like lead, and his head felt full of cotton wool. He wasn’t able to help Lupin that much in standing up; Lupin did most of the work for him. He knew he had to get up, but he desperately needed a few moments to rest. 

Mina, by instinct, had pinned Skinner down, thinking him an enemy. Lupin looked ready to jump in to help.   
“Mina, stop! It’s me! It's been a trick. It's all been a trick. We're fighting the wrong people. You can't kill Zenith. Nemo's in trouble,” Skinner explained hastily. Zenith looked at the invisible man and realised he had dived at Mina, thus saving his life. The invisible man was either mad or incredibly brave.

Lupin was ready to take action, should Mina be unable to fight herself, but she seemed to be gradually calming.   
“It’s me,” Skinner repeated, forcing himself to stay calm.  
It took a while for Mina to regain her composure- her control, but finally, that blood-red glow faded from her eyes. She stood up, leaving Skinner to scramble on his feet.

“I’m sorry, Rodney,” Mina said quietly.   
“It’s fine, Mina. We’re all fine. It’s not Zenith you need to fight - it’s Fantôtmas.”  
“We don't have the time to explain everything yet,” Lupin interrupted, seeing Mina had regained control of her inner demon. “All you need to know if Fantômas is going to try to kill Nemo and Robur. We must stop him. Where is he?”

A roar gained their attention. “I think you need to worry more about your friend at the moment,” Mina said, knowing fine well that Hyde was on a rampage behind the lighthouse. There was a very small woodland area, placed there to help keep the cliff dry and the ground sturdy no doubt. Nyctalope and Hyde were fighting there.  
“Nyctalope won’t stand a chance!” Zenith exclaimed.

Mina looked for her knives and put them back in the sheaths. “I’ll have to talk Hyde into stopping but it will not be easy. You three ought to stay near to me. I don’t know how he will react.”   
“Safety in numbers,” Lupin muttered.  
“I thought Hyde was on your side?” Zenith said, his voice strained.   
“Well, he is, but we’ve never had to tell him ‘no’ before and I have a feeling he was rather looking forward to this fight,” Skinner remarked.

“Can you hold on well enough?” Lupin asked, noting the condition of Zenith’s arms.  
“Those are deep cuts,” Mina added quietly.  
“I'll be fine. What's the worst that could happen?” he answered, retrieving his own sword and its sheath.  
“You get killed?” Skinner suggested.

Zenith smirked to mask his pain and answered in genuine honestly “Exactly, that’s barely something to worry about. Now come on!”


	53. Dicing With Death

**Chapter 53 - Dicing with Death  
** **Continued**

Sawyer’s stomach lurched in dread as soon as he made it to the lighthouse door. He licked his lips in apprehension, unsure of exactly what was to follow. A trap? An ambush? The young man’s agitation didn’t go unnoticed. Quatermain looked at him, grim-faced, silently asking if he was ready. He nodded with a deep breath. With a gentle push, Quatermain slowly let the large door swing open with a mewling creak. He went first, checking behind the door as Sawyer followed him in.

Looking around, Sawyer could see nothing but a dark empty room and the spiral staircase in the middle which reached all the way to the top. Quatermain closed the door behind them both, which snatched what faint light the moon had provided. As they moved into the middle, the wooden floor threatened to strain under their weight and make a noise with every step. Sawyer focused on trying to move as lightly as he could towards the staircase.

The only word Sawyer could find to describe the building itself was as a skeleton. It was bare and hollow, stripped of any impression of life. There was a stray draught of wind which seemed to whistle through the building. It sent the smell of damp rotting wood towards them. Sawyer felt his spine turn to ice as the extra chill caught him. For now, it was far too dark to see anything in detail, but it would get lighter the more they travelled upwards- if they made it that far.

Even just climbing the stairs could prove fatal: should Fantômas begin to shoot upon them, there would be no cover. Though even with strained concentration, Sawyer couldn’t hear anything indicating the assassin was still actually there. But it would have been impossible for him to leave- they would have seen him, surely?

Sawyer was in new territory. This was a hunt and with the stakes so high only Quatermain could lead Sawyer with the least risk. He could vaguely make out Quatermain's outline, his more prominent shadow against the dim surroundings. The hunter was working on getting his bearings. Sawyer kept close to him, being sure to pay close attention to everything he did. He didn’t want to make any mistakes. Not this time.

Sawyer wasn't sure how long they stood there, just listening as the wind tried to play with his imagination. Waiting for some kind of movement. There was nothing, but Quatermain showed no signs of moving yet. Though he began to get impatient and anxious through the tedious wait, Sawyer didn't dare move too soon. He had to take his time. That was the second lesson Quatermain had taught him. The first was to keep his eyes open. Sawyer was certain to do both this time around. His eyes were wide and he didn't settle his head in one place for long. He kept turning around, searching hard for some sign of movement.

Sawyer’s head snapped directly upwards as there was a sudden groan of wood above them. It came from the stairway. Sawyer held his breath until the noise stopped. Trying to understand what was going on. Finally, Quatermain tapped his arm and tugged slightly at his sleeve: a gesture for them to make their move. 

Quatermain stepped forwards, being cautious as to not make his footfalls make so much as a sound. As Quatermain climbed up the first few steps, a vague light appeared above them. Without hesitation, Sawyer raised his gun towards the light. He was surprised when a great burning rag, a blanket no doubt, was thrown down towards them.

The two gunmen quickly backed away so as to not get caught in the fire. Sawyer looked for someone to shoot but there was no sign. The heavy lumbering of feet above them was soon followed by several shots. Some were much too close for comfort. Deciding to act, Sawyer dropped his larger gun and took his smaller guns and fired as many bullets as he could up towards Fantômas. Just as he had a shot perfectly lined up, Quatermain dragged him underneath the stairs to where they were protected before he could fire. Within an instant of Sawyer moving, there came a bombardment of bullets. So much for keeping his eyes open.

Sawyer could hear Quatermain counting up the shots Fantômas fired. So far they were up to eight. That hopefully meant he only had four left before he would have to reload.  
“Refill your guns. I've got an idea,” Quatermain instructed.

Fumbling for the bullets, Sawyer hurried to top up his guns. “Now what?”  
“When I fire the flare, you shoot at him,” Quatermain said.  
“Isn’t that our only one?”  
“There’s another in the Automobile, but we need the light. Aim, Sawyer, don’t shoot blind.”

With his guns once more at the ready, Sawyer waited until Quatermain gave a signal. There was another nervous wait; another painful straining of the ears, desperate to hear what was happening. They waited until the fire died out somewhat. They needed the element of surprise.

“Now,” Quatermain whispered, leaping out from their hiding place. The streak of red light ricocheted up the slender building, giving Sawyer his chance. He could see Fantômas’s shadow as clearly as ink on paper. There he stood, unmoving, fearless, with a gun aimed at the young agent. Sawyer fired his gun first, only just hitting his target in the hand. With a shout of pain, the assassin dropped the gun and began to climb the stairs. Sawyer tried to shoot him again, but the spiral staircase protected him.  
“Good,” Quatermain praised quietly. Quatermain hurried up after him, taking the stairs two at a time. Sawyer kept turning on the spot trying to shoot at Fantômas. He gave up and instead shot ahead of him, stopping Fantômas in his tracks. It gave Quatermain time to catch up.

Apparently sensing he was cornered, the assassin ran down the stairs to fight Quatermain. The close proximity meant Sawyer couldn’t shoot at him. The spy pocketed his guns and hurried up the stairs, scooping up his rifle as he did. He used the bannister to help hasten his climb. He had to make it to Quatermain.

Fantômas made sure to keep very close to the old hunter, making it impossible for Quatermain to fire his rifle or for him to have the time to get his revolver. Quatermain could barely see anything. He was fighting a shadow. Letting his rifle drop to the floor, he swung for Fantômas’s ribs but missed. He was at a height disadvantage due to the stairs, something Fantômas used to full effect. 

Without any time to brace himself, Fantômas spun around and kicked him, shoving him against the wall. Without stopping, he punched him in the stomach with his uninjured hand. Though badly winded, Quatermain fired a fist at his head. It was enough to make Fantômas stagger back. The assassin headed further up the stairway before Sawyer could get there to help.

Quatermain chased after him; his age did not slow him down, though his legs were aching with the countless stairs. He took up his hunting knife, and grabbed Fantômas by the ankle, tripping him over. Quatermain tried to get on top of him, but Fantômas was able to take out his own knife. Quatermain only just saw it in the fading red light. 

The blade whipped past Quatermain’s face as the assassin so aggressively tried to strike him. The light was still faint but it was enough for the hunter to fight for control of Fantômas’ blade. Quatermain hit the assassin’s hand off the stairs until he dropped the knife over the edge.

Fantômas at once seemed to realise he couldn't shake him off. He hit Quatermain in the neck, enough to make him move back and struggle for breath. Clambering to his feet, the assassin took hold of both sides of the railing, lifted himself up and kicked Quatermain in the chest with both feet. He was sent hurtling backwards.

“Quatermain!” Sawyer exclaimed, almost catching up to the hunter. Quatermain curled into a ball as he rolled down the stairs, trying to defend himself. Fantômas grabbed Quatermain's knife, which he dropped as he fell. He then continued to climb the stairs.

Sawyer rushed to meet Quatermain and stop him from falling any further. Even with the overwhelming darkness, Sawyer could tell he was hurt. He kept his arm drawn in close, cradling it as he tried to manage the pain.

“The bugger!” he shouted.  
“Get back to the automobile. I can handle him,” Sawyer said, looking at Fantômas as he climbed up to the very top of the lighthouse and up through the trapdoor.  
“No, you bloody can’t!”   
“Wait here then, if he starts coming downstairs, then shoot. He's gonna pay for that one!”

Sawyer didn't give him the chance to argue. He went after Fantômas alone.

By the time Sawer made it to the top of the stairs Fantômas was preparing to climb down the side of the lighthouse via a rope. He was almost out of sight. The assassin had apparently collected a gun from the landing as now he aimed it at the young man. Sawyer hit the ground to avoid a bullet. He heard a smash as the shot hit the lighthouse lamp- though it didn’t extinguish it.

Sawyer cursed under his breath and hurried downstairs, calling out to Quatermain not to shoot. If he tried to shoot down at Fantômas he’d likely get shot first. He didn't have anything to cut the rope and untying such a knot was pointless. He had to look after Quatermain and get out of the building. There was one door, and Fantômas knew it. They’d forced him out of his burrow at least. They could cover the others now.

Sawyer called out he was on his way and met with Quatermain, who was sitting on the step, gun in his good hand.   
“Come on, time to go,” Sawyer rushed, helping Quatermain to his feet.   
“What’s going on?”  
“He’s at the bottom. We need to get out before he traps us.”

As they plodded down the stairs, Sawyer going first, Fantômas did not come into view. Sawyer kept his gun at the ready, fully prepared to fire, but nothing happened. Fantômas was gone and Sawyer couldn’t see where. He hoped he didn’t give anyone else any trouble.  
“Where the hell did he go?” Sawyer exclaimed.  
“I don’t know, keep your eyes open.”

They only just left the building when Sawyer heard Skinner call out his name. “Where’s Fantômas? He’s tricked-”

“Bring them down!” a voice bellowed, quickly followed by a torrent of gunfire.


	54. Tempest

**Chapter 54 - Tempest  
** **Continued**

Nemo gripped his sword, preparing for a gruelling fight. His chest was heaving from previously fighting Fantômas’s men but he was fortunately unscathed. He made his way over to Robur, making sure that his footfalls emitted no noise. Robur was at the very back of his ship, looking at the cliffs.

Nemo stopped and stood straight, taking a deep breath to deliberately get Robur's attention. He wanted him dead, but he wanted Robur to know fear as he plunged his blade into him.  “Are you still cowardly enough to deny your actions, Jean Robur?” Nemo watched the man in front of him. He didn't turn around, he just remained still, looking at the view.

“I retain my plea of not guilty but it won't matter what I say, will it? Either way, you intend to kill me. Unfortunately, Captain, I cannot permit that.” Robur turned around to face him.  
“For your son, I imagine. I expect he will do much better without you in his life.”  
“I have raised my son alone from the day he was born and he is more of a man than you'll ever be!” Robur defended.

Nemo would not allow himself to be distracted by sharp comments; to be consumed by anger. He ignored him and said, “Even if you are as you say, guiltless, you still took my family and so many others from their homes.” Nemo drew his sword, which hissed as it left its sheath. It looked molten in the glow of the red lamps of the ship. “We lived in fear for years, my daughter knew nothing but the cold confines of her stone prison.”

As Nemo continued, he felt the anger trying to well up inside of him. It was difficult for him to continue and remain physically calm. He had to stay steady; in control. “Has your son touched the grass? Walked freely down the street? To be able to see the sky without a great sheet of rotten glass standing in his way?! My daughter did not! She knew nothing before she was murdered and for that, you will  _ always  _ be to blame.”

“So that is why you shot my son and left him to die? Revenge… or was it out of spite; out of jealousy?” Robur snarled.  
“None of the League shot your son! Look at the flaws within your own team before you throw such disgusting accusations at my own. They have their honour, much more so than you.”

Nemo stepped forwards, encouraging Robur to make his move. He knew what to expect. Robur produced a gun, but Nemo swung his sword, hitting the gun and Robur’s finger. The weapon fell from his hands, and the blade at his chest stopped him from picking it up. There was a dangerous glint in Robur’s eye, a silent threat radiating from his face. Nemo glared back.  
“I knew you wouldn't fight with so much as a shred of honour.”  
“I much prefer the term coming prepared,” Robur answered. “So do you plan for us to stand here all day? Kill me on the spot and get your revenge?”

“I suggest you pick up a blade and fight me with courage instead of trying to tremble behind a gun like the coward you are,” Nemo ground out.  
Robur gritted his teeth and made no sign of moving.  
“Pick up a blade,” Nemo demanded.

Still, Robur did not move. He weighed his chances. Nemo was patient, it gave him more time to catch his breath from his last fight, but time was pressing. He stood unmoving; his chest heaving; his determination flaring. It was Robur’s move. He walked towards the helm, which was encased in glass. A sword was leaning against it- so he was willing to fight after all.

As Robur took up the sword and withdrew the blade. He swung for Nemo quickly, hoping to catch him unawares. Nemo was on his guard, he deflected the strike with ease. Robur was incredibly strong, but Nemo had agility on his side, that and far greater skill in sword fighting. So long as he was observant, Nemo had confidence in his victory. Nemo expected Robur thought the same, but Nemo had old injuries, and he was tired from his other fights only minutes earlier. Nemo wondered if they’d been there for that sole purpose of wearing him down.

Nemo continued to allow Robur to try to hit him, it would tire him out and allow Nemo to read any patterns. The captain focused, reading Robur’s body language, assessing his weaknesses whilst still deflecting and dodging his strikes. Nemo decided to send a wave of his own strikes. He moved quickly; Robur could barely keep up. A well-aimed kick amongst the duel caused Robur to almost fall over, he had to lay a hand on the floor to steady himself.

Nemo waited, letting Robur get back up. He wanted to savour this somewhat. The two stared at each other, each waiting for the other to strike. Nemo held onto his sword in one hand. Robur stood up straight, sticking his chest out as he positioned himself sideways. His face was branded with ferocity, but it did not intimidate his opponent anymore. Nemo did not fear him anymore, not now he had the League. He only wanted him dead. 

It was Robur who cracked first, swinging for Nemo’s head with both hands on his weapon. Nemo swept to the side, barely grabbing Robur’s sleeve with his sword hand as it fell downwards. He punched him hard in the shoulder blade, which sent him staggering forward. Nemo spun in a full circle, slashing at his back with the momentum it brought. Robur shouted in pain but turned to face him, gritting his teeth.

With Robur weakened with a bad wound, Nemo began to change the ratio. He did most of the attacking. Strike after strike, Nemo did not stop, but somehow Robur managed to keep up- someone had been teaching him, perhaps Zenith, though his skill amounted to very little in comparison. Being so relentless meant it burnt through Nemo’s stamina. He couldn’t keep it up, moving so quickly, with so much merciless force was just as hard on his own body as it was Robur’s. Fury drove Nemo onwards until he was able to mark Robur again, this time his side. Nemo stabbed at him but only made a gash.

Robur backed away, trying to catch his breath. The cold realisation that he was going to lose was dawning on him. With a roar, Robur tried again, lunging forward. Nemo took that as his chance. He struck the inside of Robur’s sword, as though to parry it away, as he did so he wrapped his sword around until it was on the outside. With a quick and powerful jerk of the arm, Robur’s sword flew out of his hands. It landed on the roof of one of the cabins. 

Without hesitation, Robur ran to collect it. Nemo pursued relentlessly. Robur jumped up, using his sheer strength to pull himself up, though his injuries evidently caused him to struggle. Finding his feet, Robur snatched his sword up. He took a moment to catch his breath; to settle his wounds.

Nemo used the window ledge as a boost to spring up. Robur tried to go for him whilst he was partially unprepared, but Nemo moved. He used a dive roll to get out of the way, moving forward past Robur; giving him time to stand up.

Turning around to face each other, Nemo could see Robur was getting irritable. It showed through the tired, sharp expression on his face. Breathing deeply, Nemo simply relaxed, getting into position. He didn’t gloat, or remark at Robur’s weakness like some might. No words needed to be exchanged. Nothing else mattered. It was all down to this, Nemo intended to finish him shortly. He was going to avenge those who he had lost. They had been forced to wait for justice for far too long.

Blood was spreading around Robur’s shirt and Robur struggled to ignore it. Nemo hadn’t hit him as hard as what he could have. He only wanted him weakened.   
“This is why I’d rather shoot you,” Robur muttered, putting one hand on his side.   
“But you did not try to retrieve it. You were too proud to let my challenge go uncontested,” Nemo answered coldly. “You aren't the only one who ‘came prepared’ as you put it.”

Robur gritted his teeth and the grip on his sword increased. He glanced behind him as if judging whether or not he could jump down. Nemo wasn’t going to let him- he’d probably go for the gun. Nemo stepped forward, forcing him into one more round of deadly conflict. Nemo could see that his injuries were limiting his fighting. He was growing more desperate to win and yet more unsure of himself. The combination would seal his fate.

Nemo drove Robur to the other side of the cabin roof. Robur knew that he had to start regaining the ground he was losing. He slashed upwards, Nemo stepped back to avoid the blade. But when Robur’s blade was travelling up in the air, he kicked Robur in the chest with all his strength.

The captain fell from the roof and off the Albatross itself. He only just managed to grab the bottom of the railing to stop himself falling to his death. His sword fell into the sea far below. He groaned at the pain but held on with all the strength he could muster. Nemo climbed down from the cabin and towards Robur, carrying himself with all of the dignity he possessed. He was Captain Nemo of the Nautilus, an exiled royal, a survivor, and finally in control of this hellish situation he had been forced to endure. He stared at Robur with focused, unblinking eye contact. He walked towards him slowly, with shoulders back; his movements firm and precise.

Robur knew he wouldn’t have time to climb back up, but he began to try. Even with all of the strength he had, the wound on his side made pulling himself up almost unbearable. He wrapped his arms around the fence post; he kicked his legs, trying to find a foothold. There was nothing. It did not matter, Nemo was already at the fence. Robur clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, he knew what came next.

“Get on with it,” he snapped “But once you finish me, you leave my men and ship alone.”   
“I have nothing against anyone else but you. I’m not like you- I won’t kill others who are not to blame,” Nemo answered.   
Robur laughed but he didn’t smile. “Tell that to Navies of the world. After all you've done, what gives you the right to revenge?”  
“I have the only right to attain  _ justice _ .”

Nemo wasn’t going to let Robur affect him further. He had played the card of his past mistakes too many times. He wouldn’t let it plague his mind. That pain had been numbed for this conflict.

Nemo prepared to deliver the final blow. He could finally avenge all those who had perished because of this man. For the first time in his life, Robur was powerless, the darker side of Nemo couldn’t help but savour the sight. He raised his sword, the metal glowing in the lamplight, glinting in the moonlight. It was a frightful sight, but Robur maintained his courage. A single movement from Nemo and it would be over.

But he never did.

He hadn’t the time to. Something wrapped around his neck with formidable strength.   
“Fantômas!” Robur exclaimed in surprise.  
The assassin had a rope, driving it hard into Nemo’s throat. Nemo immediately tried to hit him with his sword, but in a swift movement, Fantômas snatched it away and tossed it behind him. He must have been holding onto the rope with one hand.

Nemo began to struggle for his life, he walked backwards, before throwing himself against the wall, hoping he could loosen Fantômas’ grip. Fantômas dragged him away from the cabin and towards Robur, who was trying to climb back up the railing, that was, until the assassin kicked his hand. Robur had to drop down to where he started.    
“What are you doing?!” Robur roared.   
Fantômas wrestled Nemo down to the ground. Nemo kicked desperately, gasping for air, he reached for his sword but it was much too far for him to get. He gave up, trying to instead prise his fingers in between his neck and the rope that was squeezing the life out of him.   


“Ha, you really think that I’m here to save you, Robur?”  
Robur’s eyes grew wide… He understood.  
“Yes, you idiot. Nyctalope is as innocent as they come. I was the one trying to kill you. I tried to kill you and your son.”  
Nemo was beginning to struggle less and less, his movements were getting weaker.

Fantômas crouched down near Nemo’s ear. “Robur never killed anyone, Captain,” he whispered. With a powerful jerk, he yanked Nemo’s head up closer to him. Fantômas stared at Robur as he continued. “It was me.”

“No,” Nemo gasped feebly. He tried to use one last burst of energy to free himself, but it was too late. His world sank away into nothing.


	55. Monsters in the Dark

**Chapter 55 - Monsters in the Dark** **  
** **Continued**

Nyctalope's chest was heaving almost painfully. The cold around him was hurting his chest as he greedily took in the air. He had managed to hide away in the heavy undergrowth at the foot of a slender tree. The dark of the night helped to conceal him from Edward Hyde. He was terrified of the risk of being discovered. The only way he had a chance was to keep away from him until the potion ran out, but with such a limited area to work with, it was only a matter of time, time he really didn't have. He had to get to Robur, to warn him.

Great footsteps alerted Nyctalope of Hyde's nearby presence. He could hear the monster's strong breathing and him growling in irritation at being unable to find the young man. Nyctalope dared to peer up out of the undergrowth he lay in, at least he could see Hyde clear as day without putting himself at risk. The darkness could protect him. Hyde was staring hard into the blackness. He was having a little more difficulty locating him in the dark. He seemed to be relying on his nose somewhat, using all of his senses to discover where the young hero was hiding. 

“I know you're here,  _ boy _ . I can smell your fear! Come on out! I will make your death much faster.”

Nyctalope tried his best to make his breath silent and the steam from his breath invisible. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears. He could feel his trembling hands growing sweaty as he tried his best to control his anxiety. It wasn't easy to steady his breathing after he had been forced to run only minutes before. Nyctalope closed his eyes tightly and ducked back down. There was a slight rustle of dry grass due to the movement. Hyde's head snapped to attention.

Hyde began to stomp toward him. Hyde was going to find him, there was no getting away from the fact. Nyctalope had only a slim hope of survival. He had to run. He had to get away from him. Lupin had given a task and above all, he had to see it through. Only he was physically strong enough to stop Robur and Nemo fighting. Lupin seemed to know he wouldn't have been able to get past the League- especially with Skinner.

Now it seemed Lupin had far more chance of stopping this fight than what he had. Nyctalope took one last steadying breath and jumped to his feet. Hyde immediately made chase, Nyctalope was already running away. He sped away like a rabbit, weaving in between trees, jumping over roots; ducking under branches. His mind emptied itself. His only thought was to run- to run and not stop. The long grass was wrapping around his ankles, threatening to trip him over. The tree roots reached out to try and catch him off guard.

Hyde barrelled through the vegetation, knocking over any tree that was in his path. Most of the trees were thin and dainty, easily falling over at Hyde's fury. He roared in anger. He knew he wouldn’t be able to just catch Nyctalope. He quickly changed his tactics.

Nyctalope kept moving, gritting his teeth, trying to ignore his burning lungs. He didn’t dare look behind him. He’d end up tripping.

Everything changed so quickly.

Before he could even acknowledge what was happening, he was on the ground. Instinct brought his arms up to his head, protecting him somewhat. For a second he just lay there, dazed, confused. He spat out a mixture of dirt and blood, turning himself over onto his back. Hyde had launched a great branch at him, knocking him over like a domino.

Nyctalope groaned in pain. Everything seemed to spin and lurch upside down. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to clear his mind and ignore the feeling of nausea what overwhelmed him. He had to get up. He had to-

Hyde stomped over to him, picking up the branch he had thrown. Nyctalope’s eyes grew wide. He knew what was coming. Hyde sent the branch down like thunder. Nyctalope barely had the time to roll away. He ended up on his stomach, watching the thin shadow beneath him to know which way he had to move a second swing came pummeling towards him seconds afterwards. He feinted moving to the right and threw himself left, Using the momentum of his roll, he scampered up on his feet. He tried to run again, but Hyde swung the branch, hitting him hard in the torso.

Nyctalope crashed against a tree. He landed hard, his chest throbbed. Hyde was too strong. He had to get away, but his body was not working alongside his head. It was a wonder he wasn’t unconscious. There was another option. 

Nyctalope shoved his hand in his pocket, just as Hyde grabbed him from the floor.

Hyde grinned at finally catching his prey. He began to squeeze, just as the others had tried to crush the life out of Nemo weeks ago. A shot rang out, and Hyde felt a sharp stinging in the side of his hand. He threw Nyctalope away in fury, roaring as loudly as he could.

He spared a long glance at his hand. It had barely marked him. He didn’t care about it even if it had been bad. Nyctalope held onto his sides, catching his breath. He dragged himself up to his feet, and began to stagger away, he began to run again, trying with all his might to escape. Hyde was not willing to allow it.

Picking up his branch, he looked around for the young hero. He scanned the landscape for his trembling form. The darkness made it more difficult, but somehow Hyde knew he wasn’t there. He’d only looked away for a moment!   
“I’m getting tired of playing hide and seek, boy!” he growled.

Hyde sniffed the air, exhaling calmly; dangerously. “I will find you,” he sneered.  
The slightest rustle of leaves caught his attention. He smiled slyly, looking up into the trees. There he was, struggling to hold onto the branch with his dizziness. He swallowed hard, staring Hyde in the eye.  
“Boo.”

“Hyde, wait!” someone cried. Hyde resumed with his plan.

_ Edward, stop! That’s Skinner calling for you. Wait! _ Jekyll exclaimed.   
Hyde ignored them both. Taking hold of the trunk in two hands, he pulled at it, the roots began to spring from the ground as he brought it down. Nyctalope jumped to the ground before the tree was fully uprooted. With a swift blow from the back of his hand, Hyde sent Nyctalope down again. This time he didn’t try to get up.

Hyde approached Nyctalope, scoffing to himself, finally ready to finish him. Gunshots echoed in the distance: Quatermain and Sawyer no doubt. Nyctalope tried to get up, but his arms were shaking under the strain of his own body. His nose was bleeding and his eyes carried that damp mouldy look of defeat. He looked away, closing his eyes, curling up.

“Hyde!” someone shouted again. This voice was female: Mina. Hyde focused only on Nyctalope. To his great surprise, Mina ran towards him, standing in between him and his prey with her arms outstretched. Skinner, Zenith, and Lupin stood nearby, though Skinner was much closer than the other two. “Wait! Listen to me. He is not our enemy,” she began. Hyde sneered at her for trying to stop him. He pushed her out of the way, fairly gently.   
“Hyde, knock it off!” Skinner barked, moving forward. He didn’t want to get to close; Mina had told them all to stay back. She would be the only one who would be able to talk to him, fight him if necessary.

Mina staggered back at the push but she dived back towards the young man, crouching over the top of him. Her eyes were as sharp as flint. She bared her teeth.

“Mina,” Hyde snarled in a warning. He stood up straight, bearing a sour expression “Move.”  
Mina didn’t stir. “Fantômas is the man you have to stop. Leave this boy alone. He’s here to save Nemo.”   


Nyctalope tried to get up, straining himself. He fell before he could get his knee under him to support himself. Mina rested her hand on his back as a reassurance.   
“I told you to move- he’s mine!” Hyde snapped.   
“No! If you are to fight anyone, it will be Fantômas. I will not allow you harm anyone else,” Mina continued, her voice leaving no option for argument or even disagreement.

Hyde clenched his fist. His chest rose and fell like a bull.

For a moment, Skinner wasn’t sure if Hyde would listen. He didn’t know what he would do. Nonetheless, Mina refused to move, she stared at him, ready for anything. “Please,” she added softly.  
_ Edward, please stand down. Listen to her.  
_ There was a small, but dreadfully tense wait. Hyde’s body relaxed.   
“Then where is he?” he finally growled.  
Skinner breathed freely.

It was then that they heard the door to the lighthouse creak open. Sawyer was having to help Quatermain out and towards the automobile.   
“Sawyer,” Skinner called. “Where’s Fantômas? He’s tricked-”

“Bring them down!” a voice bellowed, quickly followed by a torrent of gunfire.

Everyone rushed for cover- except Hyde, who picked up a stray log and threw it at the gunmen. It bought them a few seconds. Sawyer, Quatermain, Zenith, and Lupin took to hiding behind the automobile, Mina dragged Nyctalope away and they both sheltered behind a tree. She used her body to shield him. Skinner was in the open and had to jump down to the ground, crawling towards their former transportation.

“Where’s Fantômas?” Lupin asked quickly.  
“He ran off. Wait- what the hell are you two doing here?!” Sawyer exclaimed, drawing a gun towards the two thieves.   
“They’re on our side, Sawyer,” Skinner shouted over the noise as he made it to the automobile and sat up. “It’s too much to explain and I don’t know what’s going on myself. I thought Nemo took care of that lot over there.”   


“More of them! They were on the Albatross- Fantômas must be going after Nemo and Robur,” Lupin replied, ducking as the glass window above him shattered.  
Hyde began to fight the gunmen, finding a way to divert his anger. Sawyer took to shooting from where he hid and Quatermain did what he could with his good arm. Mina had to stay with Nyctalope to make sure he was alright. She couldn’t leave him yet.

Zenith poked his head up, looking in the direction of the Albatross. He'd spotted something. Before anyone could stop him, even bleeding as he was, he jumped up and began to run as fast as he could towards the ship. He kept low to the ground and miraculously wasn’t hit. Skinner looked up to see what was wrong. That was when he saw. Fantômas was strangling Nemo. He’d dragged him to the ground and Nemo had no chance of freeing himself.

Zenith was injured enough as it was, he couldn’t be expected to save Nemo and Robur alone.   
“Wait-” Lupin shouted, but it was no good. 

Skinner knew he had to get up there. “Nemo!” he exclaimed. He opened the automobile door and grabbed his towel. He scrubbed at his skin mercilessly until he was clean enough to be considered invisible again. Lupin watched the invisible thief, unsure of his intentions. The towel was tossed to the ground and Lupin realised he went to follow Zenith. 

The gunfire seemed to increase and tucking himself back in behind the car, he knew he would be unable to get up. For now, it was up to Zenith and Skinner.


	56. Retaliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some more child whump in this one- might as well warn you again.

**Chapter 56 - Retaliation  
** **_The Albatross_ ** **: (*A Little While Earlier*)**

“Da, what's going on?” Armand asked, rubbing his eyes as he woke up. Robur realised his hastened manner was starting to scare the boy somewhat. Armand wasn't used to seeing him like this.  
“I have to go, son. Turner is going to stay here with you until I get back,” Robur answered, closing the curtains to the cabin windows. “When I leave here do not make a sound and by no means leave here. Wait until someone comes to get you.”

“Why? Da, please, what's going on?”  
Robur turned to face him. In a cool and collected tone, he explained “The League are here. I need you to stay hidden, do you understand?”  
“And what about you?” Armand asked, sitting up in his bed.  
Robur chose not to reply straight away, he didn't need to. Armand already understood.

“No… No,  _ please _ , you can't fight them. It's too dangerous!”  
“I said do you understand?” Robur asked again, stronger in voice though not enough to be considered a shout.  
Armand nodded, looking down in defeat. There was no point in him trying to argue but the anxiousness in his features was too much for Robur to ignore.  
He sighed and sat at the edge of the bed. He lifted his son's chin up, encouraging him to look up at him.

“I'm sorry, but I have no choice-”  
“There's always a choice. There's always a way- you taught me that,” Armand argued, his voice cracked as he grew more desperate to sway his father from his decision.  
“That's for engineering, my lad. There's no way to repair this damage. We have to fight. The important thing is now that you stay safe.”  
“But what about you?! Da, I need you. What if-” Armand stopped and looked away with tears trying to form in his eyes,  
“Armand,” Robur said. “I have every intention of coming back alive. Keep cool, my boy. Now of all times I need you to trust me.”

Armand shuffled over and wrapped his arms around his father, fearful it would be for the last time. Robur held him gently, stroking his hair.  
“I love you,” Armand whispered.  
Robur found his grip tightening on his only son.  
“I love you too, my boy, more than you could know,” he answered softly. Robur looked up to see Turner heading over to the cabin through the window.

Robur let go of his son and smiled beneath his bushy grey goatee. “You just have to trust me.”  
He ruffled Armand’s hair and stood up to leave with a reassuring smile. Briskly heading to the doorway, Robur forced himself not to look back to his son as Turner took his place.

“There's a revolver in the bedside drawer should you need it. Lock the door after me. Keep the door locked and stay quiet,” the captain instructed.  
“Aye, sir.”  
Robur then leaned forward and whispered in his first mate’s ear “If anything happens to me, will you look after him?”  
“Of course, Mr Robur. You know I will.”

Robur nodded and left without another word. He glanced back at his son with a soft smile. They all hoped it would not be for the last time.

Turner sighed and sat down beside the boy.  
“Chin up, lad. He'll be fine,” he said, hoping to sound optimistic. "Your father is a strong man."  
Armand didn't feel reassured, especially when Turner went into the bedside drawer to collect the gun his father had mentioned. Armand hoped that they wouldn't need it. All that could be left to do was listen to the dreadful ticking of a clock in silence.

* * *

**_The Albatross: *_ ** **Present Time***

When the sounds of battle finally made it to Armand and Turner's ears, they both looked at each other in worry.  
“What's going on out there, Turner?” Armand wondered out loud.  
“Keep your voice down, lad. We have to stay quiet. The League's about,” Turner whispered.

Suddenly, there were heavy footsteps above them, followed by the stinging clashes of metal. Nemo and Robur were above them, fighting. Turner put a finger to his lips, though he seemed to hold onto the gun tighter. Armand swallowed hard, biting his lip to the point where it hurt. He absent-mindedly crossed his fingers. 

A sudden clatter and more footsteps stopped. A shout caught their attention, it sounded like Robur. Armand swallowed hard, trying not to rush to dreaded conclusions. He hated being forced to wait powerlessly whilst his father fought for him.

Curiosity seemed to get the better of Turner and he, gun in hand, dared to move the curtain slightly.  
“Allo, what's going on here?” he muttered.  
Armand watched as Turner's expression changed rapidly turning into shock and then despair.

“Armand, lie down, pretend you’re asleep. Quickly, lad! We've got a mutiny on our hands. Lie down.”  
“What about you? Turner, what's happening?”  
Armand was beginning to get sick of asking people the same question without getting an answer.  
“No time. Pretend you’re asleep, alright?” 

Armand decided to do as he was asked and shuffled down, facing Turner and consequently the door. He closed his eyes tight but soon realised that wasn't how he slept. He relaxed his body, making a very convincing act. A few seconds later someone tried to open the door.

“It's already locked,” a voice grumbled. Armand didn't recognise it as one of the League. It sounded more like one of Fantômas's men.  
“Check it, we need to make sure everything is secure,” another said, much harsher but quieter.  
“Turn over, lad,” Turner whispered.  
Armand did so, just in time for the sound of the key turning in the lock. 

Armand listened as the chair legs scraped against the floor as Turner stood up. The door opened.  
“What are you doing here?” Turner demanded.  
The two men seemed to be taken aback with Turner’s being there. “Sorry, sir, we were asked to check you're alright,”  
“Wrong answer. What-”

Turner never finished the sentence. There was a grunt and a thud as the first mate hit the floor. Armand flinched but tried to make it more natural- snoring very softly.   
“Come on, you idiot. Fantômas wants us off the ship as soon as he's made those two hop the twig. The lad can’t go anywhere. Everything has already been set in here.”   
As quickly as they came; fearful of their blunder the two men left and locked the door.

Armand waited a moment, trying to understand everything. It didn't take long for him to put two and two together. He turned over in bed and leaned over the edge to see what was wrong with Turner. He lay in a heap, unconscious, but the boy could see his chest moving strongly. He sighed in relief. He was alive at least. Carefully, the boy climbed out of bed and picked up his crutch. He was able to get to the window, where he opened the curtain a touch. There was no sign of the two men. What he saw instead was worse.

Robur was holding onto the edge of the ship; Nemo was stalking him like a predator.

“Da!” he exclaimed. Armand looked around for some sort of weapon. He wasn't going to let Nemo kill him- he wouldn't!

The gun was nowhere in sight. The men must have taken it. His eyes fell upon the table, where a few medical supplies were waiting to be used. One of which was a pair of scissors. Reluctantly, he picked them up. He thought about what Zenith had told him several times beforehand. He had to channel out that fear, saving his father had to take priority. He was more frightened of losing him than anything else. 

Armand limped over to Turner and tried to wake him up. There was no chance of that anytime soon. The syringe on the floor made it clear as to why. It was up to him. Armand reached into Turner's coat until he found what he was looking for: keys. He made it to the door and fumbled for the correct one. As he did so, there seemed to be a great struggle from the outside. Armand took a few breaths to steady himself as he carefully opened the door.

He slipped outside silently. Using his crutch to swiftly bring him to the end of the cabin. He hid behind the cabin as he heard Fantômas suddenly begin to speak. “Yes, you idiot. Nyctalope is as innocent as they come.”

Armand struggled to force himself not to make a noise. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He gripped the scissors tightly, turning to look around the corner. His father was still clinging to the railing for dear life. Armand knew he had to act. He abandoned his crutch, laying it on the floor near his cabin and began to crawl up the stairs. His leg was sore enough to slow him down, but he could still move. It was all down to him staying quiet. He had to stay quiet.

“Robur never killed anyone, Captain,” Fantômas continued in Nemo's ear. “It was me.”

Armand could tell Nemo had moments left by the time he made it to the top of the stairs. Robur was running out of time just as quickly. With one quick swoop, Armand pushed off on his good leg and rammed the scissors into Fantômas’ thigh, closing his eyes as he did so. It was a disgusting thing to even think about, let alone carry out.  
“Armand!” Robur cried, trying once more to get up, but his strength was starting to fail him.  
The assassin howled in pain and dropped Nemo onto the floor. Nemo didn't try to get up, Armand couldn't even see his chest moving.

Knowing he had to back away, Armand began to scamper backwards on his hands and feet, never taking his eyes away from the assassin.  
“You little brat!” he seethed, carefully but swiftly removing the scissors from his leg. Fantômas used his foot to shove Nemo off the ship. Robur grabbed him by the arm before he could fall to his certain death. Robur could hardly hold onto the rail.

Armand shuffled as fast as he could, back down the stairs and towards the cabin. Maybe he could lock himself inside, or Turner was awake. No, the hobble he had caused Fantômas didn't slow him down enough. He was onto him, with scissors raised high in the air. Fantômas was going to kill him.

“Fantômas!” someone bellowed. Armand turned his head. It was Zenith! Armand’s face fell when he saw that he was injured. His breathing was more laboured than what it should have been and he was leaning forward a bit.  
“Zenith, I thought you'd be dead by now,” Fantômas sneered.  
“If you knew anything about me, Fantômas, you'd know I don't aim to please,” he replied coldly, drawing his sword. “You would also know how much I  _ despise  _ traitors _! _ ”

“I'm curious to see how you will deal with one,” Fantômas retorted, throwing the scissors away. He found Nemo’s sword on the floor and picked it up. Blood dripped from his fingers, and so Armand hoped Zenith could use that to his advantage.

Armand took that as his chance to back well away, he made it back to his cabin, tucking himself in the doorway but didn't open the door. He watched in horror as Zenith, twisted in anger, began to fight the assassin. Zenith was fast and managed to catch Fantômas on the arm within a few seconds. Even though he had no skill in sword fighting himself, Armand could still tell that Zenith’s movements were too sluggish. Fantômas wouldn’t get caught out again. Yet Zenith continued fighting, injured as he was, risking his life, purely to buy time. Armand grabbed his crutch, trying to see if he could get to his feet. 

Zenith was able to disarm Fantômas quickly, but even with no weapon, it didn't seem to matter to him at all. As Zenith lunged forward again, Fantômas only just managed to twist to the left. He avoided the blade and grabbed onto Zenith's right forearm. The one that already carried an ugly cut. Zenith tried to grab the sword with his other hand, but Fantômas knocked it to the floor with a clatter.

Fantômas remained unmoving as he suddenly began to squeeze Zenith's arm without a shred of mercy. Zenith roared in pain as he was driven down to one knee. Gritting his teeth as sweat sprang to his brow, Zenith tried to hit Fantômas with his other hand. He was only able to hit him in the back, which did little.

Armand knew he had to do something, he couldn't fight Fantômas in hand to hand combat, that would result in nothing but his death. What else?! Pressure seemed to lean against Armand’s chest as he struggled not to panic. He was running out of time. The boy struggled to his feet and, using the only thing in his hand, launched his crutch at the assassin like a harpoon. In throwing his body weight forwards, Armand staggered to the ground, landing hard on his sore leg. He yelped, curling into a ball as he held onto the old wound.

The crutch hit Fantômas hard and accurately enough for him to let go. Zenith held onto his arm, wheezing as he tried to control the pain. He staggered to his feet, ready for more fighting. Fantômas struck him in the throat as he rose. It was hard enough for Zenith to fall backwards, hitting the ground again. Pain clearly ricocheted across his shoulders and down his arms.

Fantômas scooped up the sword whilst his opponent gasped for air. With a swift, unhesitating strike, he drove it down into Zenith's chest, his heart. Zenith tried to sit up as the blade hit him, he opened his mouth in shock.

“No!” Armand screamed.

Fantômas removed the blade and threw it well out of the way.  
“You should have let the vampire finish you,” Fantômas muttered.   
“And I hope Hyde gets you,” Zenith snarled weakly, coughing, trying to relax.

Fantomas stared hard at the boy, debating on killing him. Armand didn't care- he just stared at Zenith in horror, trying to keep the tears out of his eyes. He was still alive but looked pained. How long did he Have? Armand could see him shivering. Armand had failed. Fantômas scoffed. Casually, the assassin consulted his pocket watch and noted the time. He inclined his head towards Armand and appeared to be contemplating killing him. Without another word, he finally left the boy alone.

Armand picked up the scissors again and hurried over to Zenith, limping violently with all the pain moving had caused him. He dropped down beside Zenith, expecting the worst.  
“Zenith?” he whimpered.  
“I'm fine, Armand. I'm fine,” he stammered, trying to sit up. A deep wince cut him off.  
“He stabbed you-”  
“He tried,” Zenith answered. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I realised that wasn’t a fight I could easily win...” Zenith slowly went into his pocket and took out his cigarette case, which now bore a harsh scrape and a deep graze on his side. Zenith’s acting meant Fantomas hadn’t noticed it had slid off.

“Luck seems to be on my side. Though whilst I have my case at my disposal, I could really do with a cigarette-”  
“No,” Armand said, taking the case out of his hand.  
“Why not?” Zenith grumbled, watching as Armand put the case in his trouser pocket.  
“You're still hurt, Zenith. Smoking isn’t going to help.”   
“It helps enough,” Zenith muttered, grimacing in pain.

Armand bit his lip as he thought. There was no way he’d be able to stand to get help, his leg hurt too much, burning with so much pain it took his breath away. He struggled to keep quiet. He’d have to help Zenith himself. He quickly removed his shirt, showing his dainty torso which was covered in goosebumps with the cold.   
“What are you doing?” Zenith managed. He was quickly getting worse.  
Armand wiped the scissors clean on his trouser leg and then cut his shirt in two horizontally. He tied the top half around Zenith’s bleeding arm, using the sleeves to tie it around. He shivered as the cold caught him, but he was sure to keep working. He folded the other section up into a square. 

“Lie down please,” Armand said.  
Intrigued, Zenith did so, shuffling as best he could. Armand made him stay down, once he had the material in position over his shoulder. Zenith hissed in pain but managed to stay still.

Armand tried to get up, but his leg was hurting far too much. He couldn't focus. “I have to help my father-”  
“You've done more than enough. The League will help him, they’re on our side now- look, they're already there-”  
A wave of pain overwhelmed him, and Armand had to keep him still as he tried to sit up. He knew he had to stay with Zenith. His wounds were taking their toll. Armand looked up to Mina and what looked like the invisible man trying to help Robur up. He only hoped one of the League would be able to help Zenith.

“Hold on, Monsieur.”

* * *

**(*A Few Minutes Earlier*)**

Skinner had to hurry past Zenith and Fantômas, who were fighting like there was no tomorrow. Zenith wouldn't be able to last long. Not with the state he was in. Knowing he had to help the others first, Skinner went straight to Robur. At first, he couldn't see Nemo and feared the worst, but he noticed Robur was only holding on with one arm. That was when he found Robur was holding onto their captain. The gunshots had stopped. Fantômas must have finally run out of gunmen. Skinner took Robur by the arm and began to heave him up as best he could.

Robur was in great pain as he tried to keep both himself and Nemo up. Even with his strength, he wouldn't be able to hold on for long.   
“Skinner, wh-” he exclaimed, knowing exactly who was trying to pull him up.  
“I’m getting tired of explaining things. Just hang on,” Skinner said through gritted teeth.

“If you can lift me enough so that I can wrap my arm around the post then I'll be able to last longer.” Robur groaned in pain. He really didn’t have much grip left.  
It would take all of Skinner's strength but lifting him up a few inches was achievable. He grunted as he used both hands to drag Robur up somewhat, giving him a much better grip.  
“Can you reach Nemo?” Robur asked quickly, his face was bright red with the strain. Skinner tried as best he could but it was impossible.  
“It's too far. I'll need help.”

As if right on cue, Mina flew up to meet them and landed on the deck. She was cleaning her bloodied face but she seemed to be mostly herself again, especially with the blood gone.  
“Skinner?” she called.  
“I'm here, Mina, I can't lift them both.”  
“I'll hold onto Nemo until you can lift Robur up.”

Mina didn't give him any time to consider. She lay on her belly underneath the fence and began to slide down headfirst. Skinner thought she was going to fall until she twisted her ankles together around a post, locking her in place.  
“Good thing you’re wearing trousers,” Skinner muttered.  
“Lift him higher,” Mina instructed.  
Straining himself and his injuries, Robur managed to lift Nemo up that tiny bit more with a roar of pain.

Mina grabbed onto Nemo's wrist, giving Robur a spare arm to pull himself up with. With Skinner’s help, Robur managed to climb and roll to safety. He lay on his back in agony, panting for breath. Skinner left him for now and went to help Mina up, but she suddenly released her grip. She dropped.

Skinner dived forward.  
“Mina!”

He couldn't catch her, he could only stare with wide eyes. He gulped, hoping this was part of some plan. She could fly- couldn't she? As she fell there was a snarl. She had transformed. Skinner fell backwards as she rocketed back up in the air. She growled like a big cat as she lowered Nemo down to the ground, returning herself to her normal form.

“Will you please stop scaring the hell out of me!?” Skinner exclaimed.  
“It was the fastest way. Nemo needs help.”  
All attention fell to Nemo. He wasn't moving. Mina felt on his neck for a pulse. She readjusted her hand, once, twice. Her body tensed but finally, after what felt like an age, she relaxed.  
“He's still with us. Fantômas must have released him in the nick of time,” she breathed, gently moving Nemo’s head. He groaned, opening his eyes a crack.

“That was too bloody close,” Skinner murmured.  
Mina helped Nemo to sit up, rubbing his back as he took shaky breaths.  
“Slowly, Nemo. It’s alright.”

Robur dragged himself up to his feet, barely able to hold himself. “Where’s Armand?” he rasped. “Where’s my son-”

A shot rang out, slashing across the air like a whip.


	57. Chapter 57

**Chapter 57 - Breaking Point  
** **Continued**

With Mina and Hyde's ferocious help, the gunmen were swiftly defeated. The League was forced to break apart immediately after. Mina had to leave to help Robur and Nemo. Hyde reluctantly manipulated back into Jekyll and had started to help Quatermain. With Sawyer guarding them both, Lupin rushed to Nyctalope’s side. 

“Stay awake, Leo. You must stay awake,” Lupin pleaded. Nyctalope was sat up against the tree trunk, and he looked awful.  
“I’ll be fine,” Nyctalope groaned. “Go, the others need you. Free Champeau.” He hissed in pain as he tried to sit up.  
“Keep still, I’ll come back for you,” Lupin promised. But Nyctalope was right, he was needed.

Lupin called out. “Please, will one of you look after Nyctalope until I get back? Keep him awake.”  
Jekyll looked up from Quatermain’s arm, his eyes shifting as he prioritised patients. He glanced at Quatermain, who told him to go. Jekyll nodded to Lupin, climbed out of the car and to the trunk Nyctalope was sheltered behind.

Lupin was satisfied, he trusted Jekyll enough. He rushed toward the Albatross, knowing he needed to wrap this up, and quickly.

Jekyll looked down at the young man he had injured, an innocent man at that. He saw Nyctalope was holding onto his ribs, wincing and struggling to take deep breaths.  
“Let me see that,” Jekyll said gently, but Nyctalope shook his head.  
“No, d.don’t touch it.” He groaned and let his head fall back against the trunk. His breaths were raspy.  
Jekyll inched closer. “I understand that it’s sore and you have plenty of reason not to trust me, but I also need to assess the damage Hyde has caused. Please, let me help you. You could be putting yourself at great risk.” Concussion, breakages, internal bleeding, the list went on, but Jekyll decided not to say it out loud.

Nyctalope sighed, but yielded, forcing his arm away from his injured torso with a deep wince  
“Thank you, I’ll be as gentle as I can,” Jekyll promised.

Nyctalope turned his head away and gasped as Jekyll raised his shirt, very gently tracing his fingers across the newly formed bruises. The lighthouse and the automobile lights were helpful, but he needed better light to really inspect the damage. No ribs felt like they were digging in, so he hoped he had time, that his ribs hadn’t pierced any internal organs.

Jekyll sighed and lowered his shirt. “I need you to hold on until I have better light. Steady breaths… Nyctalope?”  
Nyctalope nodded and tried to keep still and steady, struggling to stay awake. He’d also been beaten toward an inch of his life, even now, Nyctalope worried just how bad the damage was.

Lupin had barely gone halfway up the gangplank when Fantômas came rushing towards him. Lupin drew his gun, but he didn’t have time to fire it. Fantômas was fast, and with an agonising twist of his already injured wrist, he was able to snatch the gun from him. He grabbed a fistful of Lupin’s hair while he was close and dragged him in close, pressing the gun against his throat, right under his chin. Lupin yelped in alarm and desperately held onto Fantômas’ arms, trying to ease the pain he caused.

A sharp yank forced Lupin to hold still, but he did not let go of Fantômas’ arms, he couldn’t fight that instinct.   
“What wonderful timing! Do as you’re told, Lupin, and I might even let you live. One wrong move and I’ll blow out your brains,” Fantômas growled.  
Lupin scowled to himself but said nothing. Idiot that he was! He should have been better than that!

“I don’t suppose you would care to surrender quietly?” Lupin grunted. “At least return my pocket watch, hm?”  
“For such an intelligent man, you’re disappointing,” the assassin jibed. “But considering you managed to get here in time, I’d say you’ve earned it. It’s in my left pocket.”   
“And despite all of your attempts to keep me out of this business, here I stand. I wouldn’t say I’m overly disappointing,” Lupin said, taking the time to retrieve his watch. He liked that one too much to leave it in Fantômas’s hands. It was a gift from Victoire.  
“You stand for now,” Fantômas purred.

Now the scuffle was over, Lupin could see Quatermain had realised he had been grabbed. He had his gun in his good hand, but Lupin was sure that wasn’t the hand he usually used. Sawyer was also at the ready. For goodness sake, Lupin hoped their aim was as good as was rumoured, or else he was a goner. With a hand in his hair and a gun digging into the bottom of his jaw, he knew there was little he could do.

“So now what do you intend?” Lupin asked quietly.  
“There’s a house in Germany waiting for me where I can continue my… work in France from afar- unless your new friends decide to shoot straight through you. Let’s find out, shall we? Do they really care about you and want to be allies?”

Fantômas forced Lupin to walk back down, but it was awkward and Fantômas dragged his head back further than what was comfortable, and he hid his own head behind Lupin’s body, so Quatermain couldn’t try and shoot him.

“Head over to the empty car,” Fantômas instructed, “Facing the Englishman and American at all times.”  
Lupin obeyed, he really didn’t have much choice. He shuffled toward the empty automobile, the one with a roof.

Fantômas whistled sharply and a few of his men came out of hiding, the last few, approaching the automobile without fear.

“Guns down, gentlemen,” he called out to the League. Quatermain didn’t budge, neither did Sawyer. For a moment, Lupin wondered if he was just going to shoot straight through him and kill Fantômas that way. He really started to believe it the longer they waited. He meant nothing to the League. He was another stranger, another enemy, and they were more than capable of the shot.

“Or you’ll kill your hostage?” Quatermain tested.  
“ _ Absolutely _ , he can block your bullets alive or dead. Don’t tempt me, Quatermain. He’s already on very thin ice.” Fantômas yanked at his hair to emphasise the ‘very’ and made Lupin hiss.

It wasn’t like Lupin could exactly keep eye contact with the League in this position. He closed his eyes for a moment. He was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

“Looks like things haven’t gone to plan. Nemo and Robur don't look very dead to me,” Lupin pointed out, glancing up towards the Albatross to see that Skinner and Mina had managed to get both captains up from falling to their death.  
“Nemo is finished. Even if not, they soon will be.”  
Lupin frowned, he didn’t understand. Fantômas pulled him down closer and whispered “It’s too late anyway, so I’ll give you a hint…  _ Tick tock, tick tock _ .”

He kept Lupin firmly in front of him until they were close to the door. “Open it.”

Lupin knew now was going to be his best chance to escape. He was sure Fantômas would shoot him as soon as he and the other Henchmen were inside. Those men had already climbed in. Fantômas slowly let go of his hair, so Lupin could look down to see the doorhandle but the gun remained.

When Lupin let go of Fantômas’ bloodied arm and made to reach for the door, he suddenly shoved Fantômas’ arm up into the air and threw his head back, a startling dare, but a shot fired out. Lupin felt it whizz past his face and hit only air. Lupin battled to freedom and rolled out of range, barely missing the few shots Fantômas sent in his direction. Quatermain tried to fire but Fantômas ducked behind the car and Quatermain’s shot, for once, missed. He didn’t have the angle to try again. Fantômas climbed inside as it sped away.

For a moment, Lupin sat there in shock, his hands shaking, rubbing the top of his head to try to ease the pain where Fantômas had yanked out hair. He couldn’t believe it. He’d gotten away again! There had still been questions that Lupin wanted the answers to. 

Lupin slammed his good fist into the earth, “Damn it all!”  
Sawyer hurried over to him, “You alright? You hurt?”

Sawyer helped Lupin up off the ground, Lupin glared down at the route they’d taken. He couldn’t follow. He realised there was no time to worry about it. Fantômas’ warning was too fierce to ignore. His mind was working vigorously to put the final pieces of the puzzle together. Fantômas had left one last puzzle. Perhaps one of his worst yet.

_ They soon will be...  
_ _ Tick tock, tick tock. _


	58. Countdown

**Chapter 58 - Countdown  
** **Continued**

“A bomb,” he muttered. The thought struck him like a snakebite. “There's a bomb!”

Lupin scampered to his feet, racing onto the Albatross as fast as his legs could carry him, leaving Sawyer in absolute confusion. He hurried up to where Robur and the others were resting, taking the stairs two at a time. Robur was the one he had to speak to. He saw Nemo was sitting on the floor by Mina in a bad way, and Robur’s injuries were too big to miss.

“Lupin, I-” Robur began.  
“Leave it. Get off the ship! All of you off- now!” he ordered.  
“What are you on about?” Skinner asked.  
“I think Fantômas left a bomb. He's going to wipe out the ship,” Lupin panted.   
“You do know all your crew have been locked in cabins, don’t you?” Skinner interjected.  
“No,” Robur exclaimed. “Lupin, you have to find it. We may not have time to get everyone to safety.” Lupin noticed Robur had to lean against the railing for a moment as a dizzy spell claimed him.

Robur tossed Lupin the keys to the doors, knowing he wouldn't be much use in the state that he was in. “Go!”  
Lupin caught them with one hand and scooped up a gun from the floor in the other. “Skinner, I need you with me,” Lupin instructed. Lupin went to begin searching, not waiting to see if he followed. Fortunately, he did so.

Lupin went straight to the assassin’s room. He tried the door, only to find it unlocked. Common sense hit him like a wall, and as if someone had taken over his body, he opened the door very slowly. He stopped after only a few inches. There was a string attached to the handle. Skinner made it over to him as Lupin closed the door carefully.  
“What-”  
“It’s a trap. Fantômas liked using those. He knew we’d look for the bomb. Skinner, wherever you are, get out of the way of the window.”

Lupin stepped back, waited but a moment and shot one of the glass windows several times. The glass was reinforced and a single bullet wouldn’t do much damage. After a few bullets, it gave way enough. Lupin climbed onto the window ledge and kicked the rest of the glass away. He tossed Skinner the keys.  
“Go open the other doors, get the crew out and get them searching.” With that, he carefully climbed inside.

Being careful not to cut himself as he slipped inside, Lupin looked around for any signs of a bomb. The string on the door was attached to a series of guns. Opening the door would have fired them.  
Lupin untied and deactivated the weapon, should anyone else stumble upon it. He saw a note near the guns.  
_ ‘Wrong’ _ it said.

“Nice try,” Lupin muttered. He left through the door to search the other rooms. Skinner had by this time released most of the crew, as well as Jean and Rene, who for time being decided to help, though Jean was shaky on his feet. There was only Turner unaccounted for. Lupin felt himself getting flustered. Time was running out. He had to take his time. If he rushed, then he'd make a mistake. This wasn't just his own life he was gambling with. Lupin counted to five, forcing himself to settle. He had to think about this, not just search wildly.

_ Where would he hide a bomb? What part of the ship would he place it to kill Nemo and Robur. He knew they were to fight; he knew where their battleground would be. He’d have it close. Where would no one look? Why would they not? Secure or obscure? Think! What were Fantomas’ priorities- what are Robur’s priorities? Where would no one- _

It struck Lupin that Armand was also unaccounted for. He went to the top corner of the ship and opened the door to the boy’s room. It was also unlocked, but Skinner hadn’t gotten that far up the ship. He stepped inside to find Turner in a heap, Lupin crouched down beside him, checking for a pulse. He was alive. Lupin took to slapping his cheek until he woke up.

“Where's Armand?” he said as Turner came around.  
Turner blinked hard as he pulled himself together. “I don't know- he was in bed. Fantômas’ men were here- they’ve betrayed us!”  
Lupin lifted Turner up to his feet. “We know. Get up, either get off the ship or start looking for a bomb. Tell me if you find Armand.”

Turner staggered out of the room to help with the search, deciding against asking questions. Lupin froze as though he were held at gunpoint and waited for a moment. He heard a faint ticking in the silence... It came from the bed. Was he imagining it?

No. That was very real.

Within an instant he had the room turned upside down. Lupin snatched the quilt away from the bed, followed by the mattress. There it was. A great big mass of lethal metal tied to the bed frame with rope. He checked the timer: about three minutes. Trying to switch it off wasn't an option. It was too complex of an explosive for anyone on the ship.

Lupin carefully untied it from the frame and raced to find Robur.  
“I've got it! Someone get this ship going towards the ocean as fast as she can go. We've got three minutes to our names.”

Robur began to shout his orders to his crew who set to work immediately. One of the crew took the helm. The Albatross pulled away from the side of the cliffs and rushed off, leaving half of the League on land. Some of the crew helped Mina into a cabin with Nemo. Skinner joined them soon after with his work done.

“Where is it?” Robur asked, resting one arm on his injured side.  
“Under Armand’s bed. It's an ugly piece of work. You'll have to drop it in the ocean. I don't know how big the explosion will be.”  
Robur snarled to himself at hearing Fantômas’ intentions. “Have you seen Armand?”  
“No, not yet, I haven’t seen Zenith either. I’ll search as soon as I can.”

Robur nodded but he looked uneasy.

He and Lupin went to inspect the bomb. Robur’s jaw dropped. “Something that size wouldn't leave so much as a plank of wood untouched. Can you carry it?”  
“Yes, Captain. It's safe to the touch.”

“Then follow me. We’ll take it to the back of the ship. I'll make sure your path stays clear.”   
“ _ You _ need to be careful,” Lupin pointed out as he carefully dragged the bomb out from under the bed and picked it up. Robur said nothing but forced his arm away from the injury that he was holding subconsciously.

The wind from the speed the ship flew at was unbearable. Robur’s crewman who’d been at the helm left for one of the cabins. Robur took over and stayed inside the glass cage which surrounded the helm. It was difficult for Lupin to walk with the bomb with the strength behind the wind. He had to carry it in both arms. Lupin made it to the glass case and sheltered behind it, trying to ignore the pain in his wrist. 

He shook the hair out of his face. Lupin could see that they were well clear of the cliffs. He looked at the timer. They had only one minute and ten seconds left.  
“I’ll bring her speed down so you can get out there. Get that thing off my ship,” Robur ordered.  
Lupin nodded and stepped out into the icy breeze. As he went to the edge, he gripped onto the railing. With one arm he lifted the explosive onto the railing and pushed it overboard. It fell, taking the cruel ticking with it.

“Get her turning around. We still have to get out of the way of the explosion,” Lupin exclaimed as he made his way into the glass casing with Robur. Robur was already bringing her up to speed. Orders and instructions flew across the ship, the crew so well-practised in their roles. Everyone else remained hidden in different cabins. The winds deafened Lupin, which meant they were going at an impressive rate. He stared at the patch of water the bomb had landed in. Any moment now. He knew it wouldn't be long. He hoped they were out of range, that was if the water didn't dampen the charges-

The explosion felt like it had knocked Lupin's teeth out. He and Robur ducked out of instinct. The noise was indescribable. The water shot into the air like a giant spearhead. The water hit the air and landed on the back of the ship like rain. The glass case kept them dry.

“By Jove,” Lupin muttered, standing up. “Fantômas certainly wasn't messing about.”

Robur let the Albatross slow down and brought back alongside the cliff. His ship acted upon his every wish with incredible agility. When the ship stopped, Robur groaned and leaned against the glass. He felt dreadfully dizzy.   
“You really need to stop thinking you’re made of iron,” Lupin pointed out. “Come on, we’ll get you patched up.”

“Somebody, help!” Lupin heard Armand cry.

Robur’s face paled, “Armand.” Just like that, his own needs became irrelevant, non-existent. With the ship safe once more, Robur dragged himself towards his son and disappeared out of sight. Lupin went over to Nemo and Mina, who had taken refuge in Armand’s cabin. He needed to know how Nemo was. The captain was awake. Mina was keeping him sat up as he was coughing and holding his throat. Lupin helped to hold him in place.

“Fantômas-” he coughed.   
“Rest easy, Nemo. He left. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to stop him,” Lupin said.   
“You lied to me,” he croaked, trying to get up; his annoyance was very clear.  
“I think not,” Lupin pointed out.   
Mina stepped in for him. “No, Captain. Lupin has been truthful. Though I think it’s time we all had our answers.”

Lupin nodded grimly. “Soon. Head to the saloon. You ought to keep out of the cold. Mrs Harker, I expect we will need your help in dealing with the wounded.”

* * *

***Meanwhile***

Even with the wounds covered, Zenith was really beginning to struggle. Armand knew it. Only moments before the Albatross had been speeding about to get rid of a bomb. Armand had to hold onto the railing and Zenith to make sure neither of them was caught by the wind. Armand used himself to cover Zenith out of instinct when the bomb exploded. The seawater had drenched him. The cold was unbearable and he could feel himself shivering.

He tried to keep Zenith awake but he was starting to drop off to sleep. Armand bit his lip, he didn’t know what to do. The thief was getting weaker. Now the panic was over he needed someone to treat this wound.   


“Someone help!” he shouted.   


Footsteps sounded, but when he looked up he saw a man he did not recognise. “Get back! Who are you?” he shouted, picking up the scissors again. He was quite a scrawny man with brown hair and facial hair. No, he definitely hadn’t seen him before. He didn't know who he was meant to trust anymore.

The man drew to a halt at the outburst and crouched down. “It’s Armand, isn’t it?” he said quietly. Armand didn’t reply. “My name is Henry Jekyll. I’m a doctor... Do you think I can see your friend there? He needs help- and so do you.”  
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” he demanded, raising the scissors in the air slightly.  
Jekyll couldn’t find an answer. “You’re going to have to trust me, Armand. Let me help.”  
“Armand?!” Robur called, searching desperately for his son.   
“Here, Da, hurry!”

Robur almost bumped into Jekyll as he turned around the corner of the cabin. The captain looked at the doctor, then to Zenith and finally Armand, who was holding onto a pair of scissors. He quickly put the puzzle pieces together. Robur stepped past Jekyll and knelt down close to his son, gently pulling him away from Zenith. Jekyll didn’t hesitate to set to work on saving him.

“It’s alright, my boy. Let Jekyll help him.” Armand didn’t fight against him, but his attention never left Zenith. Robur looked down to the pair of scissors in his son’s cold hand. Robur offered to take them. He looked his son in the eye and brought a gentle hand to his red cheek. “You don’t need those anymore, my boy. It’s all finished. It’s all over, trust me.”   
“If I trusted you before you’d be dead!” he shouted, tears filling his eyes.  
“I know and I am sorry, Armand, but the danger has passed now. Please, give the scissors… There we go… Good lad.” Armand gave them up with trembling hands. Robur took the scissors and dropped them behind him. Robur tried not to let the pain he was in show. His son took priority. 

Armand didn't notice him holding off a wince. He just sat in a daze. He stared at Zenith with drooping eyelids and his lip trembled; his eyes became moist with tears. He could hold out no longer. He fell into Robur’s arms, his body shuddering as he wept.

Robur wrapped his arms around him tightly, resting a hand on the back of his head. He rubbed his back to try to warm him. Robur let his head rest on top of his. “I’m so sorry, my lad,” he whispered. He knew his decision to fight the League had taken its toll on him. It was the very opposite of what he wanted.   
“No… No. It. It’s not your fault.” Armand hiccuped after a moment. “I just-”  
It had been too much for him. Robur held him close until he began to calm down. The captain could feel himself growing wearier. No, he couldn’t take ill in front of his son. He was upset enough.

Turner, though not in the best condition himself, came over with a blanket. He handed it to Robur, who wrapped it around his son’s shivering frame. The first mate looked at Robur and could see that he was struggling. He gestured for the captain to let him take Armand. Robur nodded.   
“Come on, my lad. Turner’s going to take you inside. You don’t need to worry anymore.”

The first mate helped Armand up. He whimpered as he put pressure on his leg. Robur turned slightly, so he couldn't see the cut on his back. That was the last thing Armand needed to see tonight. Turner took up most Armand’s weight to help him limp to the saloon.

Robur saw Jekyll was almost ready to move Zenith. He carefully got to his feet and put some of the crew at Jekyll’s disposal. Jekyll only needed them to get Zenith onto a stretcher and inside. As Robur watched Zenith being carried away into the saloon, he saw Jean, Robert and Rene, Nyctalope’s friends, leaving the ship. Whether or not they returned was another matter. Though a few minutes later they returned, practically carrying Nyctalope. He looked battered, but would hopefully heal soon enough.

Once Robur was left alone, he let some of his pain show through. He hissed as he tried to stop some of the blood leaving his body. He couldn’t afford for anyone to see him feeling so weak. The pain was proving to be unbearable, so Robur stayed as still as he could.

For a while, no questions were asked about what was to happen between the two groups. The League made their way onto the Albatross, somewhat reluctantly. Neither side was fully trusting of the other. They were waiting for answers. With everyone, including the League’s automobile onboard, Robur had the ship take to the air, leaving the cliffs behind them. The Albatross wasn’t to go far, only high in the air and out of sight. If the battle resumed later? Robur simply did not know.

With Nyctalope and Zenith being seen to by Jekyll and Mina, Robur leaned against the railing, wincing as he held onto his side. He was developing a headache, the kind that intensified rhythmically with his pulse. He needed rest. It was then Sawyer came close to him with Quatermain. They knew that Robur needed help, though he didn’t want to admit it. Sawyer came over somewhat sheepishly.

“You alright?”   
“I’ll be fine,” he muttered, clearing his throat. He stood up straight as though to prove it. That was until he felt himself wobble. Sawyer grabbed his arm to steady him.   
“Like hell you are. Come on, Jekyll can help.”  
Robur didn’t have much choice. He walked by himself, but Sawyer stayed right beside him, should he need assistance. “Thank you,” Robur mumbled.

Robur secretly felt he’d rather stay outside and bleed than go into that saloon.


	59. Curtain

**Chapter 59 - Curtain  
** **Continued**

Robur was struggling to walk and hide his pain by the time he’d walked to the door frame. The gash on his side kept bleeding and stinging due to all the movement he was making but his back carried the greater injury, he could feel the blood pouring out of both wounds. With a deep breath, he straightened up, trying to appear like the wounds didn’t phase him. It was an old habit that he had no intention of breaking, especially in front of the company ahead of him.

The saloon was never usually this full. Aside from him, there were eleven others, perhaps twelve if the invisible man was there. Extra chairs had been brought in from the dining hall. It was a lot of people to fool over his welfare and he knew he wasn’t going to manage to hide his wounds, but he was determined to seem unaffected by them. Most of them were too busy to notice his drooping face, something he was somewhat grateful for. He needed to pull himself together- quickly.

Champeau, released from his room, had just finished checking Nyctalope. A few stitches here and there and some ice for his head was all he seemed to be able to do for him, aside from close supervision, which Degains and Coqui provided. There were others to treat, and so Champeau offered to assist Mrs Harker in helping Zenith, she accepted. All Nyctalope could do now was rest.

Robur owed him an immense apology, one that he didn't expect him to accept. For the time being, Robur decided to leave him alone. He would speak to him tomorrow so he could rest tonight. Nyctalope was left to sit next to Degains and Coqui on a few chairs in peace. They spoke quietly to each other and paid everyone else little attention.

Close to the three was Mr Quatermain. Mister Sawyer went beside him now Robur was inside and standing steady. Quatermain was sitting down to make sure he didn’t knock his injured arm, but it had been treated enough for now. Mrs Harker and Champeau were working hard to save Zenith, who was lying on the couch and trying to stay awake. He had bad injuries. As he winced, Mrs Harker quietly apologised for what she had done, Zenith dismissed the apology as if she had only stepped on his foot.  
“It was a fight, Mrs Harker. You did what you were meant to. Though I must say you have no small degree of skill in sword fighting- I congratulate you.” 

Dr Jekyll had seen to Armand’s leg and was just starting to bandage it up. The boy was sitting down with his leg raised through the use of a stool. He had been brought a new shirt to wear, but the big thick blanket was still keeping him warm. At least he didn't appear anywhere near as weary of the doctor as he did before.

"Da, are you alright?” Armand asked with concern, seeing his bleeding side.

Well, that did it. Twenty two eyes were focused on him and his injuries. Robur tried not to look at any of them, especially Captain Nemo. He almost hadn’t seen him standing by the fireplace, leaning against it.   
“I’ll be alright, Armand,” Robur reassured him.

Lupin offered to take over from Jekyll, which meant he could focus on the captain. It was intriguing as to how rapidly the doctor could change. He shifted from being shy and quiet to being in control. Robur didn't bother to resist as he was led to a wooden chair. He had to sit straddling it so that Jekyll could see to his back and side. He partially took off his shirt, so that his arms were still in the sleeves and the material was covering his front. He opted not to care for manners. He didn’t have the energy for that. He let his head fall forward to hide the expressions of pain he made.

For a while, it was an uneasy quiet. Nemo stood by a wall, occasionally rubbing his neck and clearing his throat. Anxious glances between the League were exchanged. Nemo seemed lost in his thoughts as he watched Jekyll stitch up Robur’s cuts, the wounds he had caused. Armand seemed startled by the state of his father and glanced at Nemo but said nothing. He eventually watched Lupin as he wrapped the rest of the bandage around his thigh with great care. It was a nicer image to focus on.

It was then that the door opened and Skinner entered, with his hat and coat on. “Well, Lupin, you promised us answers,” Skinner pointed out. Robur watched as he sat down on the floor casually. He collected a blanket from the floor where he must have been sitting earlier and put it over his lap.

Lupin finished seeing to Armand’s leg and then sat down beside the boy as he explained all. His presence seemed to comfort the boy. From the very beginning all the way to the end, Lupin left no question unanswered. It took a while to finish everything that he had to say. During this time, the chef had brought them all hot drinks. The offer was welcomed by all. A spare shirt was also brought for Robur.

“So… all of this was for money?” Armand questioned. During Lupin’s talk, he’d gotten tired and Lupin let him lie against him, resting his head against his shoulder.  
“Mostly, though he also hated seeing a mission unfinished. He wanted Robur and Nemo separated for good. The other reason is, Fantômas was able to reach quite an impressive age for someone of his occupation. He was old, much older than me that’s for sure. It's difficult to safely leave that kind of job. The offer of Germany was ideal for him. For his own sake, he had to accept the task.”

“So that's why he was so passive with all the attempts,” Armand guessed. “His age?”  
Lupin nodded with a smile. He ruffled Armand’s hair gently. “Yes, well done. In the end, he knew Nemo had the best chance to defeat Robur, or at least weaken him enough so that he had an opportunity himself. That's why he made us fight. As well as why he fought dirty against me on the Island- he knew he no longer had the physical advantage. His lifestyle simply caught up to him. This was to be his final, his greatest game. His only problem was that he forgot who else was in the Mysterious Men.”

“Now he’s gone with his tail between his legs and we ain’t never gonna catch that rat again,” Sawyer said.  
“That is a torment we will have to learn to endure,” Nemo answered him quietly. Robur was surprised to see him just… accept it.

“Well, I feel a lot better about ‘pooning him in the backside,” Skinner said, trying to lighten the mood no doubt. “And the lesson to learn from all this? Don't trust the lifelong assassin.”  
“ _ Or _ , even better: Listen to Lupin! I know what I’m talking about,” Lupin grumbled good-heartedly, looking in Robur's direction. The captain sighed. He knew he’d not be able to live this down for a while, and for good reason. He had been a fool. He should have trusted Lupin as he always had.

“So now what?” Sawyer asked.   
“It’s too late to do anything now and you must be tired. Why don’t you stay for the night?” Lupin suggested.

Robur winced but was able to make it seem as though it was his injuries. He knew what Lupin was up to; he was making them all stay in contact so that no one could bury their head in the sand about this. By the time Lupin finished talking Jekyll had almost finished with Robur's wounds and it was only the bandages which needed to be applied. His side was much more painful than his back, probably from the movement.

“The Nautilus will be expecting us back. I do not wish to worry the crew,” Nemo said.   
“You can send them a message if you like. I’m sure Robur can set it up for you,” Lupin offered, though he put no pressure into his voice. Still, he was deliberately making it as difficult as possible to have the League leave.

Nemo looked at the others who showed very little reluctance. Besides, it appeared as though Jekyll and Mina needed to stay to keep an eye on the injured overnight. Nemo nodded hesitantly. “If it is no trouble to you, that is.”   
“Not at all,” Robur answered honestly. Jekyll soon finished seeing to his injuries and Robur put on his new shirt quickly. He sent a questioning glance towards Lupin. He was up to one of his little tricks again no doubt. Oh yes, that infamous gleam was in his eye. “I’ll take you to the telegraph,” Robur said.

Nemo followed Robur out apprehensively. Robur had to keep putting a hand onto a wall as he walked to stay steady. He didn’t want to show his weakness but it was unavoidable. He needed rest; it didn’t escape Nemo’s notice. 

Nemo wanted to say something, Robur could see it in the pitiful expression on his face. Perhaps he wanted to ask if Robur was alright, but such words likely would have sounded sarcastic and insincere coming from him, whether he meant it like that or not. Neither man knew what to say, nor how the other would react if they began to try to build bridges. There was nothing but a cold and piercing silence which preyed greatly upon their minds.

Robur led Nemo to the cabin that contained his telegraph. Nemo closed the door behind them and found the Nautilus’s frequency. When it was time to send the message it took a while for Nemo to explain what was happening and longer still to prove it was he who sent his ship their surprising message. Robur waited, leaning heavily against the wall whilst Nemo was busy. He shook his head to try to get rid of his tiredness.

When Nemo was finally finished, Robur stood straight and went to open the door. It didn’t budge. He tried with both hands, shaking it powerfully. Nemo frowned, not understanding.   
“Locked,” Robur muttered. He went in his pocket for the keys only to find air. Of course: he’d given them to Lupin...  
Lupin.

Robur’s eye twitched. He made a gesture of annoyance and pounded his fist against the door, ignoring the pain in his side.    
“Lupin?!”   
“Yes?” he said innocently from outside.   
“Open this door,” he demanded.

“Not until you both start talking to one another and try to come to an agreement. If you start fighting, then so help me I will tie you both to chairs. I know you’re tired Robur but there’s a perfectly good chair in there for you. Now act like men and talk this through.”

Robur let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m going to throttle him,” he muttered. He turned to face Nemo who didn’t look all that surprised by Lupin’s antics. “Captain, was he like this with you, or does he just have the  _ sole _ preference of annoying me?”   
“Just you, Monsieur,” Lupin called out. “Now sit down and try to be civilised.”

Nemo offered Robur the seat by the telegraph, knowing that he couldn’t stay upright for the duration of this talk, and i t really was time that they talked, even if only hours ago they had been so keen to kill one another, but… where to start?

The two looked at each other, unsure of who should start and what should be said. What should be said? How could they mend the damage of over thirty years of semi-misguided hatred? An apology, no matter how well worded, couldn’t replace everything that had been lost. It wouldn’t repair the damage; it could only stop the edges fraying even further. Robur took a deep breath. No matter how hopeless, someone was going to have to go first. They had to try. Robur opened his mouth to speak but Nemo spoke first.

“I’d like to thank you… tonight, you and your son saved my life and the Leagues’.” Nemo half spoke half-whispered.   
What was Robur meant to say to that? “And I wish to thank you for saving Lupin. Without you, I fear Fantômas may have killed him and of course for helping us when you all could have walked away.”   
More silence. It was time to bite the bullet. At least they were both on talking terms.

“Nemo, I owe you an apology, though I know how little of a consolation it will be-”   
Nemo raised a hand to stop him. “I think we can agree that we have both made mistakes which we shall forever regret. Words will not remedy the past.”   
Robur nodded. That much was true.

“Though there are… questions I must ask,” Nemo continued, forcing eye contact with Robur. “You have had in your possession the blueprints to the Nautilus all this time. Yet, it appears you never made a ship for yourself... Why?”   
“There can only be one Nautilus, Captain, and that is your ship. I have never made a copy of that vessel or anything remotely similar, save for the concepts from the ship’s engine. I much prefer the air.”

A thin wave of relief passed through him. Nemo felt somewhat safer. It was sad to think that even now, there was part of him that feared Robur. Nemo had to delicately pick his way forward. “And… do you honestly not know what became of my daughter?”  
Robur shook his head slowly. “She disappeared without a trace… I fear that perhaps Fantômas moved her body but I do not know. I can look when I get back if you wish?”   
“I… I would appreciate it.”

“I have my own question, however,” Robur said. “There was someone else who was never accounted for. Fantômas may have killed five, not four. I’m hoping you had the boy under your employ.”  
Nemo narrowed his eyebrow. Who else was missing?

“Do you recall John Ashleigh? He was only young, around ten? His father was a doctor? His father left the island after you claimed your ship. There was no sign of his son. Did he go on the Nautilus with you?” Robur asked.  
It was Nemo’s turn to shake his head. “No, not Ashleigh. I remember him well but he never came aboard.”  
“Poor soul,” Robur muttered as he looked away. He was yet another victim of the assassin. He was just another name drowning in blood, to be forgotten.

There was more silence, though this time it was more lukewarm than ice cold. It didn't make talking any easier.

Nemo cleared his throat “I must be honest with you, Robur. I will never be able to forgive you for what you have done. For taking me by force, not once, but twice for my skills and getting others hurt and killed as a result,” he said with a sharpness in his voice. Robur looked at him and subconsciously crossed his arms. What was he leading to so suddenly?

“But,” he continued softly, “I think it  _ is _ time to forget… I cannot allow the ghosts of my past to push me from living in the now. The future holds too much at stake for this conflict to continue as it has.”  
“I understand what I have done and I am grateful for being able to earn another chance. I won’t take it lightly… Yet, I must ask, speaking of the future, I know you have those plans you were working on. What is to become of them?” Robur inquired, somewhat carefully.

“Nothing is to become of them.”   
“Will I get them back?” Robur asked.   
“No. I also advise you to do your utmost best to withdraw any work you have provided the French with so far.”   


“I'm afraid I don't quite follow you,” Robur said curiously.   
“The English, the French- the whole world is growing desperate and frightened of what is to come. Robur, if I were to give you back the designs so you could give them to the French, they would feel much more inclined to use them- any nation would. Things will be blown far out of proportion. All it would do is buy France time to further arm herself. That way millions more will perish through war. Intimidation never works- it never has.”

Robur sighed and looked away. He wasn't the kind to admit the others were right. But it wasn't that easy to just withdraw work. That had been the whole point of this mission after all. A lot had gone into it. Robur also knew Nemo had personally lost a lot more because of those plans. Pavan was one of them. Robur elected not to say anything. He could already tell Nemo had noticed his hesitation.

“I realise I owe you this and I’ll do what I can, but I cannot guarantee this will go as you wish... But I can guarantee that the League does not need to fear an attack from the Mysterious Men again. I will disregard orders if I must.”  
Nemo inclined his head “Thank you. I am sure the same can be said of us.”

There was a knock on the door and a grating of a key in the lock. Lupin was letting them out now at least. Robur carefully stood up, leaning against the back of the chair. It was growing much harder for him to retain his mask of strength as Lupin poked his head out from behind the door.  
“Well, you're both in one piece at least. Have you come to some sort of agreement for the time being?”  
The captains looked at each other and nodded. It was a start.

“ _ Magnifique _ . You can go back to the others now,” Lupin grinned, opening the door wide.  
Robur walked past the thief “I'm taking this out of your pay.”  
Lupin bowed mockingly “Please do, It will give me something to do when I steal it back.”  
“Keys,” Robur ordered, hand outstretched.  
Lupin smiled and returned them to Robur. Robur counted them to be sure.

Lupin walked on ahead with a hastened step. The two captains walked almost side by side, still speaking to one another.

“I understand you will want time away from the Mysterious Men, but should you ever need us, no matter the time or the obstacles ahead, we will help.” Robur's voice was serious and commanding; it wasn't an offer to be taken lightly or ignored. “The world is changing… I only hope it is for the better.”  
“Indeed. I'm sure the League would be equally willing to assist.”

Nemo didn't understand why Robur was being so considerate. Robur was not the kind to offer out as much help and he certainly wasn't one for apologies. Was he frightened of offending him? Did he know he was in the wrong? Nemo didn't know- and he doubted he ever would. Either way, the captain had for once in his life swallowed his pride and focused on what was important. Perhaps his son changed things after all?

Lupin was at the unopened door to the saloon when he saw Robur stagger with dizziness. It was Nemo who steadied him.

“Go to bed, Jean,” Lupin said. “Now that everything is sorted for the time being, you must rest.”   
“I need to see Armand. I can hold.”   
“I doubt it. Besides, Armand is asleep in the saloon. He’s quite comfortable where he is. Now sleep when you are told.”   
“Remind me who is in charge of this ship, Lupin?” Robur pointed out.   
“Tonight? Me, while I sort out this mess that you caused. Don’t try to play that card. Go on, I mean it. I’ll have Turner carry you if I have to.”

Robur didn’t have the energy to argue further. He looked at Nemo and extended a hand towards him “Should I not see you tomorrow,” Robur explained. Time seemed to stop for a moment. It was Nemo’s move to clarify that he really did want to try to move on from this bloodshed. Much to Lupin’s relief, Nemo accepted it and shook Robur’s hand with a good grip. There was no cheer, no celebration. Robur simply headed off to finally rest.   
“I’ll check on him later,” Lupin muttered. “You should go and rest as well. It has been a very long day for all of us.”

“Thank you, Lupin,” Nemo suddenly said.   
“Hmm?”   
“Thank you. If it weren’t for you things would be very different, and not for the better either.”   
Lupin smiled, taking a handkerchief to clean his sapphire ring. “All in a day’s work. Now go, see to your League. I’ll carry Armand to bed once I’ve tidied his room up and I’ll have Zenith put in his own room so you have some space to sleep. I'm sure there'll be some blankets if you all want to stay in the same room. If you need anything, I’ll be in that cabin on the right if I’m not in Armand’s.”   


Nemo said his thanks and Lupin went to Armand’s cabin. The captain looked up into the sky, where he could see the stars. His mind wandered back to Maliha and Janni, his mother and father, his lost crew, and the newest pain to his chest, Pavan. He missed them all, but the pain was... diluted somewhat. He didn’t know if learning the truth could be considered justice, but it still brought him some degree of relief.   
“Be at peace,” he brought himself to mutter to them, smiling ever so softly.

With that, he went inside where the League, his future, was waiting.

* * *

**The Albatross: 19th October**   


The League didn’t all rise until late the next morning. They breakfasted heartily and prepared to leave. Uncomfortable farewells had already been exchanged. Robur managed to wake up in time to at least see them off. The Albatross had landed close to the Nautilus and was unloading the League’s car.

It was then Turner approached, looking much brighter than he did the night before. Robur was standing close to the rail with the League as they waited for their transportation to be put onto the ground.

“There you are, Mr Robur. Two cars have been unloaded. Mr Lupin said for me to give you this note when I came to see you.”   
Robur took the envelope which was handed to him and read it, as he did so he said “Two cars? I thought I’d asked Lupin to have one-”

There was a great roar of an engine and suddenly, one of the automobiles took off down the road at a dazzling speed. Lupin was in it, saluting the captain as he sped away.   
Robur breathed in deeply “I’m going to throttle him.”   
“Is he meant to be doing that?” Skinner grinned.   
“No,” Robur grumbled.   
“You’re not going to get that back either, are you?” Sawyer asked.   


Robur handed Sawyer the note, complaining under his breath.

_ I’ll take this as my bonus payment for my services. _ _   
_ _ I’ll meet you in Paris on the 5th of November,  
I  _ __ have some business to see to and I’ve earned a holiday.

_ A.L _


	60. Je ne Suis Pas Encore Morte

**Chapter 60 - Je ne Suis Pas Encore Morte  
** **Montreal, Canada, December 7th 1899**

John Ashleigh was getting impatient as he sat in his seat in the corner of the cafe. He cradled his first cup of coffee of the evening in his cold hands, tapping his fingers against the side of the cup. He depended on the heat from his cup to keep him warm. He was wearing some woollen fingerless gloves. Even wrapped up in his thick jumper and worn out leather coat, he could feel the early December chill.

The cafe was only small but it felt cold, dim and dreary. It put him in the mood to go down the street in the small Montreal town and find something a little stronger than coffee. Despite how the cafe seemed, there were still a few other miserable- looking customers. The stubborn ticking of a clock on the wall was beginning to aggravate him as he subconsciously listened to it. There was little else for him to do.

John was waiting for a friend who had sent him a letter asking for the two to meet, stating he greatly wished to speak with him and that he couldn't explain it on paper. The two had met roughly ten years ago when the lad was only about ten. They ended up keeping in contact through pen and paper, but John could not fathom what this meeting could be about. What could be so urgent that it required meeting face to face?

Glancing up to the clock on the wall, he found the man he was expecting to meet was already almost an hour late. John sighed impatiently and took a drink of his coffee. His chair had a slight wobble, which was rapidly getting on his nerves. No matter what he tried he couldn't keep it still.

Another five minutes passed and just as John finished his now warm drink, his friend came through the door. He looked like he had rushed to get here at least. After quickly swigging the last few sips of coffee back, John half stood up to get his attention.  
Raising his hand slightly in acknowledgement, the man hastened over to him. The two shook hands and sat down, facing each other.

"I'm very sorry that I'm late. I lost my way. I came as quickly as I could. I'm choking for a cup of tea- perhaps I can buy you a drink?"  
"Not to worry, Quincey. You're here now. I'll take your offer of that drink, but unless you can speak french, you’ll have to leave the ordering to me."  
Quincey handed him the money whilst John left to order the two drinks and brought them to the table when they were ready.

John took a refreshing sip of the new hot drink, which warmed him to the core. Quincey took to adding a little sugar to his tea. John took in how Quincey looked, especially as he had not seen him for so long. He only really recognised him by his well-trimmed auburn hair and the lively face of a boy that hadn’t changed much. Quincey could only have been twenty at the very most. He was dressed very well, with an expensive-looking waistcoat and suit. His grey eyes seemed to be humming with energy at whatever had brought the two to meet.

“So, is everything alright on your side?” Quincey asked. He too was surprised at his friend’s appearance. John was in his forties now and was very weather-worn from his outside work. Wrinkles were beginning to emerge at his green eyes, honest eyes, cool and steady, the likes of which could invoke anyone to have unmoving confidence in him.  
“Grand, grand. And yourself?” John asked, running his hand through his short brown hair.  
“Better than ever.”

"Good. Now then, what is that you needed to talk to me about?"  
"Of course. Well, do you recall that I managed to get a job in the Secret Service, moving files about in the back rooms?" Quincey asked quietly.  
"Yes, I remember and I'm damn sure you're not meant to tell anyone you're working there," John pointed out, almost hissing it.   
"Nevermind that. You see I had to talk to you- you're the only one who I can trust and might actually believe me. Though even you might doubt what I say," the young man began to explain, greatly excited.  
"For god's sake, get on with it, Quincey."

"Right, well a couple of months ago- September it was- I had to take some folders out of one of the agent's rooms. I accidentally dropped two or three of them. You won't believe what fell out from one of the folders," Quincey whispered.  
"Something you weren't meant to look at?” John grumbled.  
“My mother's photograph! Well- my real mother that is. The very woman I have been trying to find. After that, my curiosity got the better of me and I looked into the file. I could hardly believe what I was reading. She is part of a so-called 'League of Extraordinary Gentlemen'. Can you believe it?!" The last sentence came out louder than it was meant to and several heads swerved to see the noise.

"A league? What's all that about?" John found himself asking once the attention turned away from Quincey, now also intrigued.  
"Originally it was all a scheme from James Moriarty, you've probably heard of him. There were seven people that were part of it and when they realised it was a trap they were able to stop him. The British Government decided to make them official should they ever be needed. Most of the time they just do as they please. John, they really are incredible people! One was invisible, there was a doctor who could change into a beast - oh and there's the agent of ours who is working with them. There are a few others including my mother. They go about in this great big ship- and it can travel underwater."

John, who had been taking another sip of his coffee, began to choke. It took him a few seconds to regain himself. Quincey was too into his tale to really acknowledge it.  
"What did you say about a boat?" he asked as he coughed.  
"That's how they get around. I can't remember its name or anything. Why do you ask?"  
"Does… Does the Nautilus seem familiar?" he asked carefully, almost fearfully.  
"Why, yes! Yes, that… that was its name.” Quincey narrowed his brows in curious surprise. “How did you-"  
"Who captains it?" John pressed on, suddenly immensely eager to find out despite his anxiousness.

Quincey had to think for a moment. John swallowed hard, waiting tensely as the seconds felt like years. This was the last thing he expected to be hearing this evening.  
"It’s... oh, an Indian fellow. What was his name again? It began with an N... Nemo? Yes, Nemo- or something of the like."  
John leaned back in his chair- stunned. Quincey raised an eyebrow as John muttered, "He's back…”  He knew that name, even if it wasn't his real one.  
“What?”  
“Quincey, I need you to tell me everything you know, please. This is very important.”

With his excitement overtaking his regard for the rules of the Secret Service, he quietly began to explain the League’s encounter with Moriarty.

John’s stomach turned to lead and curdled with his coffee. 

* * *

John was a little apprehensive to go back home. He entered quietly, hanging up his coat on the pegs. As he did so, his wife came out to see who was there.

She was a beautiful woman. Her facial features were smoothly defined though the first marks of old age threatened to emerge. She seemed to naturally possess a bit of an icy reserve to those she did not know. By nature, she kept herself to herself but to John, she was caring and warm. She was his world and he dreaded having to explain this to her.

"Was everything alright, John? You seemed to be a while," she smiled, smoothing out the wrinkles in her plain green Indian dress- her sari.   
"Oh, yes, it. It was... fine. Quincey just wanted to tell me something but he was running late,” John answered, taking off his gloves and shoving them in his coat pocket. He seemed to hesitate in looking at her.

“And are you alright?” she asked, walking towards him. “You seem a little... shaken.”  
John stopped and sighed. He pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “In all honesty, Janni, I'm not sure.” He balanced his woollen hat on top of his coat. “Is Hira asleep?”  
“Yes, she went to bed about an hour ago.”  
He nodded in approval. Janni approached and brought her hand to his cheek. “John, please talk to me, what's wrong? You're starting to frighten me.”

John held onto her hand and kissed it softly. “I’m sorry, it’s just something important Quincey said. I'll explain everything. Can we go sit down?” John explained.

Frowning in confusion, she followed him into the lounge.  
“Would you like anything?” she asked her husband as he sat down.  
“No, thank you, my love. I think you'd best sit down. I don't know how you’re going to take this."  
Janni frowned as she sat herself down on the other opposite couch. She played with the wedding ring on her hand. John had worked hard for years for that ring. It never left her finger. He hoped she wasn't worried about their marriage over the way he was acting.

Most of the furniture in the house was second hand. It was the cheapest he could find but the quality was high enough. Not everything matched, but neither he nor Janni was concerned over such things. Everything worked as it was meant to and that was the most important thing. John didn't have the money to buy everything new. Food and rent were more important.

John began to explain everything Quincey had told him. Janni was light in the face until he mentioned Nemo. Her reserve turned to ice within the blink of an eye. “So this League, is it a current mission or was this a while ago?” she asked carefully.  
“New and current; they formed in August. They lost two, but the others I mentioned are still alive and well… Nemo is back and working for the British,” John explained grimly.

Janni took a steadying breath. The two of them sat in heavy silence. John seemed to be waiting to see what Janni did next.

She stood up and went to the kitchen, covering her mouth with her hand.  
“Janni,” he called.  
“I'm fine,” she snapped.  
John sighed and rubbed his head. His fingers got tangled in his curly hair and he gave up. He didn't know whether to follow or not.

With a deep breath, he went into the hall only to hear gentle footsteps coming down the stairs. It was Hira, his daughter. She was ten, almost eleven now. He'd been saving up for her birthday in January. She had beautiful long black hair down past her hips, but it was plaited for her to sleep better.  
“Father?” she whispered, nervously wringing out her long white nightgown.  
“Another bad dream?” he asked softly.

She nodded.

John glanced at the kitchen before he began to climb the stairs. He put his hand on her shoulder guiding her back upstairs.  
“Come on, bonnie girl. You don't need to be frightened,” he smiled softly. “What was it this time?”  
“Those American men who live near the butchers were trying to break into our house...” she explained quietly, climbing back into bed.  
“It was just a dream, Hira. You don't need to worry about that lot. They're all bark and no bite,” he smiled, tucking her back into bed. “Besides, even if they tried, do you think I'd let them get anywhere near my special little girl?”

Hira smiled as she snuggled back down.  
“Now you get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning; I'll take you to buy a new book.”  
“Thank you, father,” she yawned.  
John kissed her forehead.  
“Goodnight, Sweetheart.”  
“Goodnight,” she whispered.

John sat with her, stroking her hair until she fell asleep. Once he was sure, he crept back downstairs to find Janni.

As soon as he opened the kitchen door, Janni, wild-eyed and tense, demanded, “Why did you have to tell me all this?”  
“Quincey wanted to know if we would help him find his mother. He still doesn't know that Nemo is your-”  
“No, don't even say it! I don’t want his name spoken in this house! That man is  _ nothing _ to me. Your father was the one who looked after me, not him- Why can't Quincey look for his own mother?”

“He's just young, Janni. He wanted a travelling partner is all. If you don't want to go then we won't. He probably just thought he'd give Hira a chance to see the world a little. He offered to pay-”  
“It's not about the money, John, and don't think I have anything against the boy. However, I for one am not going anywhere near this League, and neither is Hira. I wish Mr Harker all the luck in the world and if  _ he _ wasn't part of it then there's a chance I would help.”

“Then I'll tell Quincey we can't go,” John said calmly. Janni wasn't listening.  
“Can you imagine it? That filth would probably try to crawl back into our lives. He'd throw his name around and strut about like he's the best father of the century. Why did you have to remind me of him?!”  
“I didn't know if Hira changed things and-”

“Hira? Do you know what he would say as soon as he saw her? How much he would care?!”  
“Keep your voice down,” John grumbled.  
“He'd just complain at her being a girl; that he doesn't have his precious male heir. He felt the same for me without a doubt. No, that man- if you can even call him that- is not seeing Hira. Not whilst there's breath in my body. Not after he left me for dead and-”

“Janni!” John finally had to shout. Janni stopped for a moment, somewhat bewildered.  
“Then we won't go,” he continued loudly. Within an instant, his voice softened. “I'm sorry I've brought him up, but I had to ask.”  
Janni’s icy reserve began to melt, leaving behind the memories of a tearful past.  
John moved forward and held her close. “I'm sorry, but I wasn't going to make that choice for you. I had to ask.”  
“I just hate that man,” she whispered into his chest.

John stroked her long hair softly and kissed the top of her head. “I know, my love. It’s alright.” He felt his own temper flare-up. Even after all this time, Captain Nemo was still trying to tear his family apart. Just his very name could send his wife tumbling down. It was done now at least. There was only one person he had to protect his family from, and that was Janni’s own father: the traitor who left her behind on the Island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it, Nemesis is finally finished, and I've started planning my next one. This story means a lot to me and it's gotten me through quite a lot over the years, so I'd appreciate any feedback. If you have read this, then I'm very grateful to you, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I have. Hopefully, I'll be back soon with my next fic.  
> \- MorallyGrey


End file.
